"Him! An old fatty like him! Izzy calls him Old Squash! Izzy says he's the only live Cartoon in captivity." "Izzy--always Izzy! Believe me, your brother could do better than layin' in bed at eight o'clock in the morning, to copy after Max Hochenheimer." "Always running down Izzy! Money ain't everything. I--I like other things in a man besides money--always money." "Believe me, he has plenty besides money, has Max Hochenheimer. He 'ain't got no time maybe for silk socks and pressed pants, but for a fine good man your papa says he 'ain't got no equal. Your brother Izzy, I tell you, could do well to mock after Max Hochenheimer--a man what made hisself; a man what built up for hisself in Cincinnati a business in country sausages that is known all over the world." "Country sausages!" "No; he 'ain't got no time for rhymes like that long-haired Sollie Spitz, that ain't worth his house-room and sits until by the nightshirt I got to hold papa back from going out and telling him we 'ain't got no hotel! Max Hochenheimer is a man what's in a legitimate business." "Please, mamma, keep quiet about him. I don't care if he--" "I tell you the poultry and the sausage business maybe ain't up to your fine ideas; but believe me, the poultry business will keep you in shoes and stockings when in the poetry business you can go barefoot." "All right, mamma; I won't argue." "Your papa has had enough business with Max Hochenheimer to know what kind of a man he is and what kind of a firm. Such a grand man to deal with, papa says. Plain as a old shoe--just like he was a salesman instead of the president of his firm. A poor boy he started, and now such a house they say he built for his mother in Avondale on the hill! Squashy! I only wish for a month our Izzy had his income." "I wouldn't marry him if--" "Don't be so quick with yourself, missy. Just because he comes here on a day's business and then comes out to supper with papa don't mean so much." "Don't it? Well, then, if you know more about what's in this letter than I do, I've got no more to say." Mrs. Shongut sat down as though the power to stand had suddenly deserted her limbs. "What--what do you mean, Renie?" "I'm not so dumb that I--I don't know what a fellow means by a letter like this." "Renie!" The lines seemed to fade out of Mrs. Shongut's face, softening it. "Renie! My little Renie!" "You don't need to my-little-Renie me, mamma; I--" "Renie, I can't believe it--that such luck should come to us. A man like Max Hochenheimer, of Cincinnati, who can give her the greatest happiness, comes for our little girl--" "I--" "Always like me and papa had to struggle, Renie, in money matters you won't have to. I tell you, Renie, nothing makes a woman old so soon. Like a queen you can sit back in your automobile. Always a man what's good to his mother, like Max Hochenheimer, makes, too, a grand husband. I want, Renie, to see your Aunt Becky's and your cousins' faces at the reception. Renie--I--"