Tessie wanted to tell me something about her _Mann_ to-day so badly, but could not find the English words. Her joy when I said, “Tell me in German”! How came I to speak German? I'd spent three years in Germany with an American family, taking care of the children. Honest for once. “That was luck for you,” says Tessie. “That was sure luck for me,” says I—honest again. Wherever Lena works there floats conversation for a radius of three tables. The subject matter is ever the same—“dopes.” “Is he big?... Gee! I say!... More like a sister to him.... He never sees the letters.” “Lena” (from Ida), “shut up and get to work!” ... “I picked him up Sunday.... Where's them waxing papers?... Third she vamped in two days.... Sure treats a girl swell.... Them ain't pineapples....” “Lee-na! get to work or I'll knock the hell out a ya!” And pretty Lena giggles on: “He says.... She says to him.... Sure my father says if he comes 'round again....” And Tessie and I; I bend over to hear Tessie's soft, low German as she tells me how good her _Mann_ is to her; how he never, never scolds, no matter if she buys a new hat or what; how he brings home all his pay every week and gives it to her. He is such a good _Mann_. They are saving all their money. In two years they will go back near München and buy a little farm. Tessie and her poor _Mann_, with his broken elbow and his swollen arm all black and blue, couldn't sleep last night. Oh dear! this New York! One man at one corner he talk about Harding, one man other corner he talk about Cox; one man under their window he talk MacSwiney—New York talk, talk, talk! Looked like rain to-day, but how can a body buy an umbrella appropriate to chocolate packing at thirteen dollars a week when the stores are all closed before work and closed after? I told Lillian my troubles. I asked Lillian if a cheap umbrella could be purchased in the neighborhood. “Cheap,” sniffs Lillian. “I don't know. I got me a nice one—sample though—at Macy's for twelve-fifty.” Lillian may take to her bed after supper, but while she is awake she is going to be every inch to the manner born. By the time I pack the two thousandth box of “assorteds” my soul turns in revolt. “If you give me another 'assorted' to pack,” says I to Ida, “I'll lie down here on the floor and die.” “The hell you will,” says Ida. But she gets me fancy pound boxes with a top and bottom layer, scarce two candies alike, and Tessie beams on me like a mother with an only child. “That takes the brains!” says Tessie. “Not for me! It gives me the ache in my head to think of it.”