by H. T. Tsiang
* * *
—
“The reason why I, Miss Digger, am friendly with Mr. Nut, is . . .”
“Yes, dear? You’re my past, present and future! So please tell me,” said Mr. Wiseguy.
“Yes, dear, I love you, Pizzicato.12 It is money. Anyone who has money is my friend—Wiseguy. Anyone who hasn’t, is not my friend—a Nut,” platformed Miss Digger.
When Mr. Wiseguy heard this declaration, he kept quiet for a while.
He put his hand on his pocket to feel if that billfold was still there.
* * *
—
“My dear, don’t be afraid! I will not change you for all the rice in China!” said Miss Digger.
“I just couldn’t take it, baby! Oh, honey!” replied Mr. Wiseguy.
* * *
—
As they walked along Fourteenth Street, Miss Digger didn’t look at the shop windows at all.
Twenty-five cent stockings, seventy-five cent pocketbooks and ninety-nine and a half-cent shoes filled the windows.
As they walked up Fifth Avenue to Forty-second Street, Miss Digger looked at the expensive seven dollars and fifty-cent gloves and twelve dollars and fifty-cent shoes. She looked at the sixty-five dollar new spring model coats and at the mink coats reduced to eight hundred and fifty.
Miss Digger was not only looking, but pointing at all these things with her finger. She even stopped in front of those windows. And she told Mr. Wiseguy about who had given her a pair of shoes and who had promised to give her a sixty-five dollar spring coat. But she thought, Miss Digger told Mr. Wiseguy, that he would be a better friend.
“I wouldn’t get mad at you even if you buy me a mink coat!” Miss Digger said smilingly.
When Miss Digger said all this with her mouth, her eyes helped, too.
* * *
—
Mr. Wiseguy took his arm away from Miss Digger.
For it would cost money.
And he told Miss Digger:
“I can’t give you anything but love, baby!”
Miss Digger now knew that she should go easy.
* * *
—
They started walking again.
And Miss Digger began to hold Mr. Wiseguy’s arm.
They walked together closely.
Mr. Wiseguy smelt something and he said to himself:—“I wish somebody would tell her to get rid of that perspiration odor.”
Miss Digger smelt something and she said to herself:—“I wish somebody would tell him to get rid of that perspiration odor.”
As they walked Miss Digger was thinking at which speakeasy she was going to make Wiseguy spend his money.
As they walked Mr. Wiseguy was thinking of how he could get something for nothing from Miss Digger and what place he was going to use as a love nest.
* * *
—
Again Miss Digger stopped at a shop window and looked at these things. But she said nothing.
Mr. Wiseguy turned his head away from the window and looked at the sky.
The air was chilling.
No winds blew.
Miss Digger was still looking at the shop window, thinking.
Mr. Wiseguy looked at Miss Digger and again turned his head away from the shop window and looked at the sky.
The air was chilling.
There came April snow!13
* * *
—
The snow was good for both.
Miss Digger thought, “Now you must stop the open air exhibition and take me somewhere where you’ll spend some money. And then . . .”
Mr. Wiseguy thought, “Now you must stop that looking-at-the-shop-window business. And give me something . . .”
A taxi-driver, seeing the situation, stopped nearby saying, “Taxi! It’s the last snow of the season. How about a ride to Central Park? It’s beautiful out there. Very . . . nice . . .”
While listening to the taxi-driver, Mr. Wiseguy was figuring: “A taxi costs money. But it’ll be cheaper than to take her to a speakeasy. And if I know who I’m with, I’ll certainly get something for nothing, even in a taxi.”
They did ride.
About fifteen or twenty minutes later, the driver felt that the door of his taxi had flown open.
It caused the driver to turn around and he saw that the two customers had disappeared. But in another moment he realized the situation.
He stepped on the brake and the car made a sudden stop.
Because of this sudden stop, the door closed naturally.
Because of this sudden stop, Mr. Wiseguy and Miss Digger both fell from the seat of the taxi to the floor, one atop the other.
It was a long trip. And the bill ran to $3.00. But the driver got no tip—not even a cent.
Oh, yes, Mr. Wiseguy had made him promises; and the driver had hoped and waited. But when Mr. Wiseguy took the lady to the hotel, he beat it. He sneaked out by the back door. And so. . . .
XVII:
MISS DIGGER BECAME MISS PICKER
“Heaven is above,
Hell below.
Nothing in pocket,
Where to go!”
Nut followed a ray of light and came to the door of a kitchen, which was in the basement of the building in which Mr. Ratsky lived.
While Nut was standing in front of the door and looking in, a fellow asked him, “Where is the Boss?” and then the fellow turned to the door-keeper and remarked: “O.K. It’s the Boss’s Rabbit. Pass it.”
Nut passed through the kitchen and then came to a small and mysteriously decorated night club.
* * *
—
On the stage, the program was going on.
A swivel chair with no back appeared in an open space on the stage. The chair was flat.
A young girl with absolutely nothing on stood near the edge of the chair. An assistant turned the swivel of the chair.
At last the edge of the chair was just high enough to reach the girl’s bottom.
Everybody in the audience was standing up and watching breathlessly.
The assistant took out a shiny dime and showed to the audience. Yelled: “Isn’t this a dime? A real one? As good as John D’s?”14
He put it on the chair.
The girl approached nearer and nearer.
Finally the girl picked up that very dime. Without using her hands. Without using her feet. Using but one thing.
The whole crowd was shouting with joy. “We can do what Paris does,” people were saying.
Dollar bills and five-dollar bills wrapped around bottle-stoppers flew from all directions. Each was aimed at a particular spot on the dancer and they hit right. The entire audience must have been good baseball players.
At this moment a fellow came on the stage and addressed the audience:
“Since the world war, this country has become the leader of the financial world. Great Britain has been beaten. She is no longer Queen of the Seas. But in the world of amusement, if we can do only what Paris does, then we are only the follower and not the leader: and therefore we shall have nothing to be proud of. I therefore declare that if any girl in this audience can pick up a dollar bill instead of a bit of metal, we will give her a prize. The prize will be all the money we can raise among the audience.”
It was Mr. Wiseguy speaking.
Nut wondered how Wiseguy came to be there.
What would happen—Nut thought—if more than one girl could do the same trick? Which girl would get the money?
“What is the difference between metal and paper money?” asked a person in the audience.
“As I am a Wiseguy,” answered Mr. Nut’s ex-friend, “I know the trick. And it isn’t honest. The girl used a magnet. The magnet drew the metal. If a girl did the picking with p
aper, that would be real skill! I have a plan. An Epic Plan!”
The whole crowd became silent. They thought this was a new discovery.
“For the sake of the honor of our country,” Wiseguy continued, “for the purpose of promoting a new sport, I, Mr. Wiseguy, put up the first five-dollar bill. I will roll it up and put it on the edge of this chair. If a girl here can pick it up, she will get this five-dollar bill. And furthermore, she will be authorized to receive the rest of the prize-money. This competition is open to any woman in this room, young, old, fat or skinny. Professionals or amateurs. And this competition will take place once only. There are no obligations. There will be only one chance. First call . . . First call . . .”
All the rich men held out their bills. The bills were all piled up on the floor. And the audience was watching.
These girls looked at each other and marveled how wise this guy was! How could he know their secrets?
There was plenty of money for a prize, but how could they use a magnet to pick up the paper bill?
It was the first time in human history that there was money and nobody to take it.
And why should those sixteen million unemployed kick about having no money?
* * *
—
Silence . . . followed by silence. Silence . . . followed by silence.
Money was piling up, but nobody took it.
The audience was as eager and as excited as if it were expecting the arrival of the Messiah.
Yes. The Messiah was coming.
And coming not from faraway.
Right from the room. Right from the audience!
Here comes Miss Digger!
Mr. Nut wondered how Miss Digger came to be there. And whether she could do it.
Miss Digger stepped on the stage.
Miss Digger took off her clothes.
Miss Digger had absolutely nothing on.
Miss Digger stood near the edge of the chair.
Miss Digger raised her right hand and cried:
“Hello, sucker!
“I, Miss Digger, will now be a Picker!”
The crowd laughed and cheered. And one of the crowd answered and shouted: “It isn’t our money we’re spending. It’s somebody else’s blood and sweat. So we are no suckers!”
* * *
—
Mr. Wiseguy turned the chair round a little bit and raised the edge of the chair just high enough to reach Digger’s bottom.
While Mr. Wiseguy was turning the chair, Miss Digger stepped back a little bit.
Everything was ready.
The whole crowd was breathless. You could hear a needle drop.
Miss Digger stepped forward inch by inch. The rolled five-dollar bill of Mr. Wiseguy and the body of Miss Digger touched and connected.
The whole crowd was watching breathlessly. Ladies picked up opera-glasses so they could see more clearly.
One! Two! Three! One! Two! Three!
Miss Digger picked up the rolled five-dollar bill!
The whole crowd was shouting! Jumping! And shaking the building!
They approached Miss Digger and shouldered her up.
They circled the floor.
Miss Digger was received like a heroine who had just flown across the Pacific Ocean.
“Give her the Congressional Medal!”15
* * *
—
Nut could not stand this craziness any more. He contemplated crossing the dance floor and finding his way out.
As he tried to go out, a spotlight fell on him. Everyone saw him and there were shouts of “Catch the Rabbit! Let’s have some fun!”
Many rich men ran after him. Some caught hold of his leg and some struck his back with sticks. Hit and run! It was as funny as the way freshmen at college are manhandled at the beginning of the academic season. Many of these rich men had their Phi Beta Kappa keys!
* * *
—
“Equality for everybody!”
Nut, penniless, had his free show.
XVIII:
A SAINT TAKES A COMMISSION
“Heaven is above,
Hell below.
Nothing in pocket,
Where to go?”
It was half-past five.
* * *
—
Nut went straight to the east side, his old home section.
He walked way down east. He reached Avenue B.
The street was quiet, almost dead. He was ready to turn back to Third Avenue where there were usually more lights and people.
He heard a baby crying and saw a woman peeping from the hallway of an old, dirty, dark building.
The woman waved her hand at him.
Nut thought that at this late hour, something unusual must be happening to make the woman act that way.
* * *
—
Nut responded to her sign. He went towards her.
* * *
—
The woman walked ahead with a little sad smile as the gaslight shone dimly on her pale, quiet face. Nut followed in silence and in wonder.
When she reached the top floor, the woman stopped and pushed an unlocked door open. Both stepped in. The woman closed the door.
She made the kerosene lamp a little brighter. It was a two-room flat. As the bedroom was curtained with some old, worn-out cloth, Nut could not see what was inside. In the room, where they were standing, there were a few things. But nearly all were good for nothing.
There were two electric bulbs. But there was no light.
There was a gas-stove. But it was full of dust.
It was easy to see that the family had had no money for a light and gas deposit.
In front of the gas-stove was a stove made from an old can. On the handmade stove was a pan. In the pan was some water. In the water were some pieces of bread. In the handmade stove were some pieces of chopped up chairs and tables.
On the floor were a few wooden boxes wet with snow. On these boxes were some old newspapers. It looked as if they had been sat on.
In the corner of the room was a large pile of banana skins. Among this heap of banana skins two rats were nibbling.
Beside the handmade benches, on the floor, there was a pair of worn-out baby-shoes. Near the handmade stove was a wet pair of men’s shoes. The stove’s heat caused these shoes to give off a vapor.
In another corner of the room there was a picture of a young woman with a baby in her arms, a Saint. In front of this picture there were a few candlesticks. In the candlesticks some wax remained. But the candlesticks gave forth no light.
The woman looked at Nut a second without speaking.
She put more of the wood, chopped from chairs and tables, into the stove. She looked at Nut again without speaking.
She put both her hands on the stove to warm them. Again she looked at Nut without speaking.
She went in front of the Saint and crossed herself, murmuring. Then she came back to the stove and looked at Nut without speaking.
She raised the pan from the stove and stirred up the bread and water and replaced the pan on the stove. Then she stirred the fire with the poker.
Her hand trembled nervously and she dropped the poker on a bowl that was on the floor.
The falling of the poker on the bowl made a noise.
And because of the noise, a baby inside of the curtained room awoke, and started crying: “Mamma, me hungry. Mamma, me want bread. Be good, mamma. Me wanna eat, too . . . mamma, bread!”
Another voice, with a whisper, stopped the baby.
The woman moved her lips a little bit. Her eyes looked down on the floor. She wanted to speak. But she couldn’t.
There was the picture of a Saint in the corner of the room. And it was her baby and her husband who were insid
e of the curtained room. No, she could not open her mouth. She gritted her teeth. She held her two hands together in front of her breasts. She clenched them tight. She stepped vigorously on the floor, yet her steps made no sound. No, she could not speak.
* * *
—
Nut, however, was very slow in understanding the situation. But at last he understood. He didn’t hear very clearly what the baby had just murmured. But he thought that the woman’s baby was sick and that she needed someone to take it to the hospital. So he volunteered and he was very glad to do so.
As Nut talked, the baby cried again: “Mamma, the milkman not come, long time. Mamma, I want milk!”
Again with a whisper, the voice stopped the baby.
* * *
—
Because of many considerations, the woman could not say it.
But because of her own hunger and because of the hunger of her child, and because of the love, kindness, understanding, sympathy and unavailing willingness to work of her husband, she had to say it.
And she said it.
“Can you spend two dollars?”
While she was saying this, her eyes were full of tears.
While she was saying this, she put some newspapers on the wooden boxes wet with snow, to make them softer.
While she was saying this, she took off her worn-out overcoat and put it over the papers and made the bed still better.
Nut though he was, Nut now knew what this woman wanted.