Don't cry, little Jingle Bells, don't!
'Sh-h-h, ma! There, didn't I tell you you'd rouse grandma!"
With her hands stuffed against rising sobs, his mother ceased rocking
herself to and fro in her straight chair, her eyes straining through the
open door. A thin voice came through, querulous, and then the tap-tap
of a cane.
Mr. Herman Loeb answered the voice, standing quiet at the bed-end.
"Nothing is the matter, grandma."
"Come and get me, Herman."
"Yes, grandma."
He hastened out and re-entered almost immediately, leading Mrs. Simon
Schulien, her little figure so fragile that the hand directing the cane
quavered of palsy, and the sightless face, so full of years and even
some of their sweetness, fallen in slightly, in presage of dust to dust.
"Bertha?"
"Yes, mamma."
"Here, grandma, by the window is your chair."
He lowered her to the red-velvet arm-chair, placing her cane gently
alongside.
"So!"
She moved her sightless face from one to the other, interrogating each
presence.
"Sadie?"
"Yes, grandma."
"How you holler, children! Everything ain't right?"
"Yes, grandma. Ma and Sadie and me been making plans. To-morrow night
Sadie goes with me to New York on my trip.
Pages:
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362