saying, “Thank you,” then answered, “yes, I’m quite sure. She is my sister, and I received this letter from her.” She showed the old man the letter.
At first he thought his caller a sister of Leora. He parleyed with,—”A girl did have a room here—is she—” and he described Leora.
“No,” was the answer. Then came the description of “Crying Marie.” “I would like to take her home with me. I’m her sister.”
Then the old musician said, “If you’ll wait here I’ll bring her to you.”
“Thank you,” smiled the young woman.
She had been adopted by a poor family, and grew up neglected by her more fortunate sister. The man was a laborer, his wife frowsy, and with a half dozen children. The authorities forced the family to allow her to go to school. She would do the house work before leaving each morning.
Her mind was so apt that when she finished school, the young principal interested several families in her welfare. She was sent to Normal School.
An attachment grew between herself and the principal. They exchanged letters weekly, in which little was said of love. Instead, there was a common interest, an intense joy of learning.
When the girl finished Normal School, they were married in secret. The principal was chosen as superintendent of schools in the largest city of his state. He was thirty-four at the time and the newspapers commented editorially on the high honor bestowed upon him. He sent his wife, who was hardly twenty, to college. Upon her graduation as the valedictorian of her class, her marriage to the school superintendent was announced.
“What,” asked Mother Rosenbloom, “brings you here in the middle of the afternoon?”
The professor told his story.
Mother Rosenbloom sent for “Crying Marie” and told her the information the professor had given.
“Is it true?” she asked.
“Yes—it’s true.”
“Well, then, you must go home with her—take your handbags—get a taxi with the professor—then send me a telegram later and I’ll ship your trunk to you—it’s less wearing to be a whore in good society than here.”
The girl hurried to her room. Soon she was in a taxi with the professor, and on the way to her sister.
Mother Rosenbloom went to inspect the room.
“Crying Marie” had taken the whip with her.
Chapter 16
Mother Rosenbloom straightened the curtains, then rang the bell for the housekeeper.
“Have the trunk here taken to the basement,” she ordered, “and telephone the girl whose number I gave you yesterday.”
When the housekeeper had gone, the heavy woman adjusted a curtain more nearly to her satisfaction, then said half aloud, “Oh well, they come and they go; dear, dear.”
Scanning the room again, she started to close the door as Leora passed. Mother Rosenbloom glanced at her quickly and said, “It’s you, dear.”
She pushed a lock of hair from Leora’s forehead before saying, “Well, Marie’s gone. I wonder what will happen in this room next?”
Leora stepped inside the room.
Mother Rosenbloom glanced downward, but could not see the floor for her breasts. Her head went slowly from side to side.
“Do anything as you get older, Leora, but never run a house. There’s nothing in it but sorrow. One gets used to a girl and away she goes again.” She shook her head dolefully. “You were a baby when the first girl went to bed with the first man in this room.” She pulled at the watch chain around her neck. “It’s a long time ago. It was a two-dollar house then—I was the first to raise it from a dollar on this street, and all the other girls thought I’d go broke.” She sighed. “They didn’t know men like I did.” She shook her head impatiently. “The idea of a woman selling her body for a dollar! It’s shameful!”
She wound the watch chain around her fingers. “Why, they’re little more than sluts—and they’re always in heat.”
Mother Rosenbloom’s mood was as heavy as her body.
Leora asked, “Mother,
At first he thought his caller a sister of Leora. He parleyed with,—”A girl did have a room here—is she—” and he described Leora.
“No,” was the answer. Then came the description of “Crying Marie.” “I would like to take her home with me. I’m her sister.”
Then the old musician said, “If you’ll wait here I’ll bring her to you.”
“Thank you,” smiled the young woman.
She had been adopted by a poor family, and grew up neglected by her more fortunate sister. The man was a laborer, his wife frowsy, and with a half dozen children. The authorities forced the family to allow her to go to school. She would do the house work before leaving each morning.
Her mind was so apt that when she finished school, the young principal interested several families in her welfare. She was sent to Normal School.
An attachment grew between herself and the principal. They exchanged letters weekly, in which little was said of love. Instead, there was a common interest, an intense joy of learning.
When the girl finished Normal School, they were married in secret. The principal was chosen as superintendent of schools in the largest city of his state. He was thirty-four at the time and the newspapers commented editorially on the high honor bestowed upon him. He sent his wife, who was hardly twenty, to college. Upon her graduation as the valedictorian of her class, her marriage to the school superintendent was announced.
“What,” asked Mother Rosenbloom, “brings you here in the middle of the afternoon?”
The professor told his story.
Mother Rosenbloom sent for “Crying Marie” and told her the information the professor had given.
“Is it true?” she asked.
“Yes—it’s true.”
“Well, then, you must go home with her—take your handbags—get a taxi with the professor—then send me a telegram later and I’ll ship your trunk to you—it’s less wearing to be a whore in good society than here.”
The girl hurried to her room. Soon she was in a taxi with the professor, and on the way to her sister.
Mother Rosenbloom went to inspect the room.
“Crying Marie” had taken the whip with her.
Chapter 16
Mother Rosenbloom straightened the curtains, then rang the bell for the housekeeper.
“Have the trunk here taken to the basement,” she ordered, “and telephone the girl whose number I gave you yesterday.”
When the housekeeper had gone, the heavy woman adjusted a curtain more nearly to her satisfaction, then said half aloud, “Oh well, they come and they go; dear, dear.”
Scanning the room again, she started to close the door as Leora passed. Mother Rosenbloom glanced at her quickly and said, “It’s you, dear.”
She pushed a lock of hair from Leora’s forehead before saying, “Well, Marie’s gone. I wonder what will happen in this room next?”
Leora stepped inside the room.
Mother Rosenbloom glanced downward, but could not see the floor for her breasts. Her head went slowly from side to side.
“Do anything as you get older, Leora, but never run a house. There’s nothing in it but sorrow. One gets used to a girl and away she goes again.” She shook her head dolefully. “You were a baby when the first girl went to bed with the first man in this room.” She pulled at the watch chain around her neck. “It’s a long time ago. It was a two-dollar house then—I was the first to raise it from a dollar on this street, and all the other girls thought I’d go broke.” She sighed. “They didn’t know men like I did.” She shook her head impatiently. “The idea of a woman selling her body for a dollar! It’s shameful!”
She wound the watch chain around her fingers. “Why, they’re little more than sluts—and they’re always in heat.”
Mother Rosenbloom’s mood was as heavy as her body.
Leora asked, “Mother,
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