_Peggy._ We haven't had money to buy anything, Mr. Schmidt. _Schmidt._--Vot you do for food den--hey? _Peggy._ We had a little bread--and those beans you gave us--and the prunes. We've been living on them. _Schmidt._ But dem beans und prunes--dey should be all gone now. _Peggy._ We've been sparing. There's enough for to-morrow morning yet. _Schmidt._ Hey? Mein Gott! Und vot you feed dot liddle boy, hey? _Peggy._ We're hoping for a check to-day--or perhaps to-morrow. My husband wrote a poem, and a magazine has just published it-- _Schmidt_. Poem, hey? Vot dey pay for poems? _Peggy_. I don't know. Maybe twenty or thirty dollars. And then we can pay your bill, and you'll let us have some more beans. _Schmidt_. It is not right dot liddle boy should live on beans! (_stands scratching his head_) I dunno, lady, I dunno--it is not right your husband should vork and not get paid. I got mine own bills to pay--und I don't make no money by my store. But you can't feed dot liddle boy on beans und prunes. You come to my place now, und I give you some pickles und some sauerkraut. _Peggy_. Oh, thank you, Mr. Schmidt! _Will_ (_desperately_). We'll truly pay you, Mr. Schmidt! _Peggy_. If my husband can't sell his work, I'm going back on the stage. I was an actress before I married. _Schmidt_. All right, lady, I trust you. Good-bye, liddle boy. _Bill, Will, and Peggy_. Good-bye, Mr. Schmidt! (_Schmidt exit._) _Peggy_ (_turning to Will_). There now--off in your local color! _Will_. How? _Peggy_. Have you forgotten what you made Jack say about Mr. Schmidt: a great hulking brute of a Dutchman, who has no thought of anything in the world but his cash-drawer! _Will_. Well--I have to have a story! _Peggy._ But you don't have to have such a melancholy story! _Will._ Yes I do! _Peggy._ But why? _Will._ Because that's the sort of story I'm writing! Come along now. (_turns to papers. Bell rings again._) Oh, Lord! _Peggy (opens door Left)._ What's this? _The Policeman._ Good-day, mum. _Peggy and Will._ Why--good-day. _Policeman._ I come to see yez, mum. Yez have a mattress on yer fire-escape, mum. _Peggy._ Why--yes. _Policeman._ It's agin the law mum, and yez could be got into trooble. I got strict orders, mum--yez must have it in. _Peggy._ Oh, very well. I didn't know. _Policeman_ Yez kin see how 'tis, mum. If there'd be a fire-- _Peggy._ Oh, certainly, certainly. But you see, it's the only place we have to put the little boy while we're writing. _Policeman._ Oh, is that so? Well, now, that's too bad! Sure, mum----well, 'tis on the back fire-escape the mattress is, an' I'd no business to be seein' it, had I? I'll fergit that I seen it. _Peggy._ Oh! Thank you. _Policeman._ And how is the little b'y, mum? _Peggy._ He's pretty well, thank you. _Policeman._ He's a bit pale in the cheeks, I'm thinkin'. Yez should have him over to the park a bit more. Well, good-day to yez, mum. _Peggy, Bill and Will._ Good-day.