"You'r' afraid of her? Dot's right! Dot's right! Dot's nice! All religious peoples is afraid of deir vifes. But vy didn' you say you vas married from de sta't, an' dot you vant money to send for dem?" she tortured him, with a lingering arch leer. "For Chrish' shake, Mamie!" he entreated her, wincingly. "Shtop to shpeak English, an' shpeak shomet'ing differench. I'll shee you--vere can I shee you?" "You von't come by Joe no more?" she asked, with sudden interest and even solicitude. "You t'ink indeed I'm 'frait? If I vanted I can gu dere more ash I ushed to gu dere. But vere can I findsh you?" "I guess you know vere I'm livin', don'ch you? So kvick you forget? Vot a sho't mind you got! Vill you come? Never min', I know you are only bluffin', an' dot's all." "I'll come, ash sure ash I leev." "Vill you? All right. But if you don' come an' pay me at least ten dollars for a sta't, you'll see!" In the meanwhile Gitl, poor thing, sat pale and horror-struck. Mamie's perfumes somehow terrified her. She was racked with jealousy and all sorts of suspicions, which she vainly struggled to disguise. She could see that they were having a heated altercation, and that Jake was begging about something or other, and was generally the under dog in the parley. Ever and anon she strained her ears in the effort to fasten some of the incomprehensible sounds in her memory, that she might subsequently parrot them over to Mrs. Kavarsky, and ascertain their meaning. But, alas! the attempt proved futile; "never min'" and "all right" being all she could catch. Mamie concluded her visit by presenting Joey with the imposing sum of five cents. "What do you say? Say 'danks, sir!'" Gitl prompted the boy. "Shay 't'ank you, ma'am!'" Jake overruled her. "'Shir' is said to a gentlemarn." "Good-night!" Mamie sang out, as she majestically opened the door. "Good-night!" Jake returned, with a burning face. "Goot-night!" Gitl and Joey chimed in duet. "Say 'cull again!'" "Cullye gain!" "Good-night!" Mamie said once more, as she bowed herself out of the door with what she considered an exquisitely "tony" smile. * * * * * The guest's exit was succeeded by a momentary silence. Jake felt as if his face and ears were on fire. "We used to work in the same shop," he presently said. "Is that the way a seamstress dresses in America?" Gitl inquired. "It is not for nothing that it is called the golden land," she added, with timid irony. "She must be going to a ball," he explained, at the same moment casting a glance at the looking-glass. The word "ball" had an imposing ring for Gitl's ears. At home she had heard it used in connection with the sumptuous life of the Russian or Polish nobility, but had never formed a clear idea of its meaning. "She looks a veritable _panenke_,"[15] she remarked, with hidden sarcasm. "Was she born here?" [15] A young noblewoman.