David’s mother looked at the dish towel, but made no answer.
“Yes,” he chuckled, hurriedly. “I like especially the way he never speaks of Tysmenicz without leading in the cattle he once tended.”
“Well, there weren’t many things he loved more in the old land.”
“But to love cattle so,” Luter smiled. “All I thought of when I saw a cow was that it gave milk. Now when I think of Europe, and of my hamlet, the first thought that comes to me, just as his first thought is a cow or a prize bull, my first thought is of the peasant women. You understand?”
“Naturally, each has his memories.” Having placed the last dishes in the closet, she drew a chair beside David’s and sat down. On one side of the table sat Luter, on the other David and his mother.
“Exactly,” said Luter, “Each one remembers what appealed to him, and I remember the peasant wenches. Weren’t they a striking lot, in their tight checked vests and their dozen petticoats?” He shook his head regretfully. “One never sees the like here. It’s a scanty soil from what one sees of it in Brooklyn and its women are spare. But in Sorvik they grew like oaks. They had blonde hair, their eyes blazed. And when they smiled with their white teeth and blue eyes, who could resist them? It was enough to set your blood on fire. The men never dazzled you that way?” he asked after a pause.
“No, I never paid much attention to them.”
“Well, you wouldn’t — you were a good Jewish daughter. Besides, the men were a worthless lot, vacant lumps with great shoulders and a nose on them like a split pea. Their women were wasted on them. You know,” his voice was very earnest, “the only woman I know who reminds me of those girls, is you.”
She reddened, threw back her head and laughed, “Me? I’m only a good Jewish daughter.”
“I am not accusing you of anything else, but never since I have been in America have I seen a woman that so reminded me of them. Their lips were so full, so ripe, as if to be kissed.”
She smiled curiously with one cheek. “God knows, there must be enough Austrian peasants even in this land. If Jews were let in, surely no one would bar the Slovaks.”
Luter looked down at the ring he was twisting around his finger. “Yes, I suppose so. I have seen a few of them, but none I cared much about.”
“You better look about a little more then.”
Luter’s face grew strangely sober, the lines about his nostrils deepened. Without lifting his head, his eyes slanted up at David’s mother. “Perhaps I can stop looking.”
She laughed outright. “Don’t be foolish, Mr. Luter!”
“Mr. Luter!” He looked annoyed for a moment, then shrugged and smiled. “Now that you know me so well, why use the formal still?”
“Apparently I don’t know you so well.”
“It takes a little time,” he admitted. His gaze roved about the room and came to rest on David. “Perhaps you would like some refreshments?”
“No, but if you do, I can make some tea.”
“No, thanks,” he said solicitously, “don’t take the trouble. But I know what you would like — a little ice cream.”
“Please don’t bother.”
“Why, it’s no trouble. The young one there will go down for us.” He drew out a coin. “Here, you know where the candy store is. Go get some tutti frutti and chocolate. You like it don’t you?”
With troubled eyes David looked first at Luter, then at the coin. Beneath the table a hand gently pressed his thigh. His mother! What did she want?
“I don’t like it,” he faltered. “I don’t like ice cream.”
The fingers of the same hand tapped his knees ever so lightly. He had said the right thing.
“No? Tutti frutti ice cream? Candy then, you like that?”
“No.”
“I think it’s a little too late for him to have either,” said his mother.
“Well, I guess we won’t buy any then, since he’s going to bed soon.” Luter looked at his watch. “This is just the time I put him to bed last time, wasn’t it, my David?”
“Yes,” he hesitated fearful of blundering.
“I suppose he’s sleepy now,” Luter suggested encouragingly.
“He doesn’t look sleepy,” his mother, smoothed the hair back from his brow. “His eyes are still wide and bright.”
“I’m not sleepy.” That, at least, was true. He had never been so strangely stirred, never had he felt so near an abyss.
“We’ll let you stay up awhile then.”
There was a short space of silence. Luter frowned, emitted a faint smacking sound from the side of his mouth. “You don’t seem to have any of the usual womanly instincts.”
“Don’t I? It seems to me that I keep pretty closely to the well-trodden path.”
“Curiosity, for instance.”
“I had already lost that even before my marriage.”
“You only imagine it. But don’t misunderstand me, I merely meant curiosity about the package I left behind. It must be clear to you that I didn’t get what’s in it for my relatives’ sake.”
“Well, you’d better give it to them now.”
“Not so soon.” And when she didn’t answer, he shrugged, arose from the chair and got into his coat. “Hate me for it if I say it again, but you’re a comely woman. This time though I won’t forget my package.” He reached for the door-knob, turned. “But I may still come for dinner tomorrow?”
She laughed. “If you still haven’t tired of my cooking.”
“Not yet.” And chuckling. “Good-night. Good-night, little one. It must be a joy to have such a son.” He went out.
With a wry smile on her lips, she listened to the sound of his retreating steps. Then her brow puckered in disdain. “All are called men!” She sat for a moment gazing before her with troubled eyes. Presently her brow cleared; she tilted her head and peered into David’s eyes. “Are you worried about anything? Your look is so intent.”
“I don’t like him,” he confessed.
“Well, he’s gone now,” she said reassuringly. Let’s forget about him. We won’t even tell father he came, will we?”
“No.”
“Let’s go to bed then, it grows late.”
VII
ANOTHER week had passed. The two men had just gone off together. With something of an annoyed laugh, his mother went to the door and stood fingering the catch of the lock. Finally she lifted it. The hidden tongue sprang into its groove.
“Oh, what nonsense!” She unlocked it again, looked up at the light and then at the windows.
David felt himself growing uneasy. Why did Thursdays have to roll around so soon? He was beginning to hate them as much as he did Sundays.
“Why must they make proof of everything before they’re satisfied?” Her lips formed and unformed a frown. “Well, there’s nothing to do but go. I’ll wash those dishes later.” She opened the door and turned out the light.
Bewildered, David followed her into the cold, gas-lit hallway.
“We’re going upstairs to Mrs. Mink.” She cast a hurried look over the bannister. “You can play with your friend Yussie.”
David wondered why she needed to bring that up. He hadn’t said anything about wanting to play with Yussie. In fact, he didn’t even feel like it. Why didn’t she just say she was running away, instead of making him feel guilty. He knew whom she was looking for when she looked over the bannister.
His mother knocked at the door. It was opened. Mrs. Mink stood on the threshold. At the sight of his mother, she beamed with pleasure.