Evening journal., 1900-01-09
TWO WAITS

The women Of the neighborhooo
we're indignant over the whole matter
and the little delicatesssen shop down
under the shadow OF the big brewery.
became, more than ever, the cynosure
of many watchful eyes.
"The poor old man." remarked Mrs
Maggie, whose volume of voice was
equaled only by the portliness Of her
person. The lessons It teaches US Is
remarkable. Respect for the gray
hairs-thats what / say. And ri say
It again. I'll learn my Mickey, If my
arm gifts weary in the doing Of it.
never to be disrespectful. When Pat
dies-that should dare even 70 think
of it--Mickeyn get the truck-and a
good business there goes with II, too"
Right you are, Mrs. Maggie" loudly
declared Mrs. O'Connor, of the third
floor back on the fire-escape corner.
ITS q sin and a shame, indeed and Ii
is--for Annie and her man to wear the
life and the heart out of her old dad
and the poor motherless kid. Even IL
old John is shaky and slow, there is.
as you say, Mrs. Maggie, some respects
due from child to father Indeed, and
I'll tell Annie so meself, when me
chants comes"
And what is it, Maggie O'Connor,
you'll so kindly tell Annie when the
chance comes2" 1t was a loud voice
that carried this question to the
startled women, and a sneer went with
It, and hint Of quick anger near at
hand. I'm here, and I'll listen with
| pleasure"
Smiling trine, as she saw the other
woman's face grow red and heard her
high-pitched voice dwindle into an
/ apologize murmur the newcomer
placed her hands on her lips, and stood
in waiting silence. She was about 40
years of age-handsome in a coarse,
black style, but in voice and face as
hard as the doorstep upon which she
stood.
The silence was only a prelude. in.
troduced for that effect which comes
from contrast. 1t lasted for moment
only.
yes" and the dark brows scowled
fiercely. ''you women blow around be-
; hind my back, and when I'm here to
: face you, you back down like scared
rabbits You can crawl back to your
holes now, and if ! hear any more of
this talk you'll both be sorry for IL
Z afterward. That's all. Better look
d after your own kid, Mrs. OConnor,
who's thief and a sneak, like his own
/ mother, Mrs. Maggie OConnor
5 with this winged shaft she turned
, about IN true Hells Kitchen contempt.
, went into her little shop. banged the
] door to show her freedom from the
smaller restrictions of social life, and
left the vanquished gossips to vanish
as they mignI
A moment later, when the coast was
clear, there came to the door of Annie
4 Mcqueen, delicatessen purveyor TO the
neighborhood, two pathetic figures
so unlike in years, and yet in all other
Z ways so like, that one knew by in
I sinct that they would be drawn to-
! gether. The one was an old, old man
B old not only in years. but from long
b. poverty and weary labor the other a
a boy of ten, so tiny for his years, SO
p pinched and weakened and underfed
e that he seemed more ancient than the
3 other.
There was fear upon the faces o
both and that stamped the likeness
L more distinctly. Bitter experience,
Q had taught them that there was cause
e for fear.
The door opened, and Annie stool
8 before them. Her words were not The
mere halfmeant expressions that arr
81 recognized as safety-valves for disap
+ pearing anger; they were cudgels, an,
d brought the blood with every blow.
out of my way, you beggars.' She
y shouted. you gOod-for-nothings whS
= are always ready for your meals, bu
n GOOD for nothing else" She reached
L forth a heavy hand, and gave the boz
l. singing blow. He WINGED only {
II oil
h used to anything-moved away a lit
y tie to one side. forced back the tears
+ and looked for courage into his grand
If fathers face.
The old man looked into his daugh
ter's eyes for breaking of the clOu'
e 1t sometimes CHANGED that way.
a Now, Annie" he began feebly, bu
5 she turned upon him in very fury o
ol wrath.
d you old sot." she screamed. "ge
ID out of my sight this minute. Yes,
i mean It. and l mean it for the two o
mi yoz. Move on, / say" and she bangei
r he door too. turned the key in tn
E. lock, and left them together.
IS Together Well, there was a worll
lie of comfort in the thought. The littl
n cripple and the decrepit old man wer
usually the NaNpic5L twain III IN
e. world, when left alone together The
Sc walked together and they talked tC
d gether usually in the little par
D. among the tenements, or on the dock
ar Of the great Hudson, down beyond tn
re grain elevators. But there was a
,nl ways this flaw in their serenest haI
i'm piness: they could not forget tn
sel shadow of that heavy hand at homo
rel nor the echo of that cruel voice tina
NJ would greet them at the door
nd As the door slammed too, old job
iel laid gently to the tired child: wei
a. boy Wen go over to the park for
spell 1 guess we don't need our SUI
per as much as we thought we die
We can have a good time a-lOokin' q
~ the stars and a-countin' OF 'em like W
~ aid the other night; and then whe
II Aunt Annie feels a bit smoother we
II slip in. soft like, and perhaps whe
morning comes she'll be over her ma,
ness" He struck a light for his oil
clay pipe and sighed softly: ITS ia
~ bad she's so cross-tempered, amt
~, Johnny? You and me gets the he
III Of it, and it's tough at times. El