“A fool notion,” grunted Minnie Gessler. “Go to it, Dad,” said Fred. “When you get the place fixed up maybe I’ll clerk for you.” “Where you plannin’ to get the truck?” asked Minnie, Fred’s interest making her visibly weaken in favour of the proposition. “Chicago,” confessed poor Franz, hanging his head. “Well, you’re not goin’ traipsin’ off there and leave the store. Runnin’ up and down those stairs would jest kill me ... my corns....” “Fred’ll go,” decided her husband, growing sallower and stringier than ever under her accusation and his own disappointment. “And I’m going with him,” announced Matilda, clutching the tablecloth between her knees with hands that tingled and trembled. “For the land’s sakes, what for?” “To buy hats,” said Franz, going white with inspiration. “I’m thinkin’ o’ puttin’ in a line o’ women’s hats.” “Hats,” snorted Minnie, “in a grocery store!” “It’s a general store,” he reminded her courageously, and his eyes sought help from his daughter. But Matilda was silent. Gratitude and pity choked her. “I won’t have ’Tilda tagging me to Chicago,” objected Fred sourly. Minnie Gessler became as alert as her bulk would permit. Suspicion twitched at her features. It was one thing to give this beloved son the trip he wanted but jeopardizing his purity might be another. Chicago was sheer Babylon. “Go ’long with him, ’Tildy,” she said, “and keep your eye on him.” * * * * * The train shuttled noisily through the windy dust of two states and finally deposited them on the station platform in Chicago. A terrifying kaleidoscope this platform. Was it possible for a city to be big enough to supply destinations for all those people? Matilda clung to the arm of her brother and was in despair about theirs. Fred hailed a taxi and gave the chauffeur a number out on North Dearborn Street. “What’s that?” asked Matilda timorously. “Boarding house run by Old Lady Campbell. Clyde Eggers, the drummer, told me about it. Said just to give his name and she’d treat us white.” “How nice!” agreed Matilda meekly. Where had this uncouth brother of hers kept all this unsuspected savoir faire? He didn’t know George Sand from Adam, and yet he was the one who was brave and unabashed. Matilda leaned back in the taxi, which was very swift and very yellow. Time enough to check up on her own courage after the cinders were washed off and she knew where she was.