where is the first girl who was in this room, do you know?”
Mother smiled forlornly, “Yes,” she answered; “I wish I didn’t—and I know who the first man was too—and where he is.” She loosened the chain about her fingers. “The man was,” she stopped, “well, you’ll see him, so it doesn’t matter—he was Judge Slattery. He’s the biggest man in the state—and hard as a wedding tool if he doesn’t like you—and a regular baby if he does. We’ve known each other a long time—came up in sin together, God have mercy on us both.”
The radio could be heard down stairs. “Shut that damn thing off,” Mother Rosenbloom called. “It’d wake the dead in London.”
It stopped suddenly, while Mother Rosenbloom continued, “The damn things are like drunken whores in church—always chattering and saying nothing. If some one sings a good song, some idiot talks about pills right after.” Again Mother Rosenbloom wound the chain around her fingers. Leora could hear it scraping against the diamonds on Mother’s hand.
“I thought Santa Claus brought you that radio, Mother,” said Leora.
“I guess he did—and no one ever yet shot Santa Claus, but I feel like it every time I hear that damned noise box—why I’d sooner have an auctioneer in the house.”
It was a full minute before Mother caught her breath.
Leora smiled. Mother looked at the beautiful girl, and smiled back at her, saying, with a sad note in her voice, “What a lovely thing you are, child—you’re only fit for the Pope—damn it, that’s sacrilege—but,” she sighed, “if I were a man I’d rather spend a wedding night with you than go to heaven in the morning.”
The gigantic woman’s eyes rested upon her. Leora did not know what to say. Finally she asked, “What about the first woman in this room, Mother? You didn’t tell me about her.”
Mother looked around the room. “There’s nothing much to tell, dear child,—Judge Brandon Slattery kept her a long time. He was nice to her, as he always is to everybody—then she ran away with a dago the judge introduced her to. The judge was hurt in his pride—they found her dead in a few months, and the dago was dead beside her. The papers made a lot of it for a day, and then it died down—as Judge Slattery says, ‘as dead as yesterday’s headline.’ No one ever knew who killed them. When they told Judge Slattery he just said, ‘Poor girl—that dago got her no place fast.’”
“You don’t mean the judge had them killed?”
Mother Rosenbloom twirled her watch and smiled, “No indeed—the judge wouldn’t do that—he’s always able to pick up three women if he loses one—most any man is—the judge really felt very bad about the whole thing— It’s just possible that some one did it thinking they were doing the judge a favor—people love him so much they’d kill for him— I’ve never seen the like of it in all my born days.” With a bewildered expression, Mother Rosenbloom took Leora by the arm and left the room.
“You’re meeting Judge Brandon Slattery soon,” she said to the girl. “He’s a very dear friend of mine. He’s the only one like him ever born, and they broke the cradle he laid in. He likes to be rich so he can give things away—and he can do more with a fist full of words than another man can with a whole dictionary, and if he ever saw the inside of a college it was when he went to loan a student money. As I often say, he can charm a bird out of a tree—the dogs follow him on the street, and he runs the state—if I didn’t believe in God—I’d believe there was something—that made a man like him.
“There’s no politician like him in the world—he really likes people, and he likes to do favors—he’s sad when people are sad, and he’s hungry when they’re hungry there’s something eating at his heart—but he’s always laughing— One time when he was here with a half dozen big men they all got to talking about the
Mother smiled forlornly, “Yes,” she answered; “I wish I didn’t—and I know who the first man was too—and where he is.” She loosened the chain about her fingers. “The man was,” she stopped, “well, you’ll see him, so it doesn’t matter—he was Judge Slattery. He’s the biggest man in the state—and hard as a wedding tool if he doesn’t like you—and a regular baby if he does. We’ve known each other a long time—came up in sin together, God have mercy on us both.”
The radio could be heard down stairs. “Shut that damn thing off,” Mother Rosenbloom called. “It’d wake the dead in London.”
It stopped suddenly, while Mother Rosenbloom continued, “The damn things are like drunken whores in church—always chattering and saying nothing. If some one sings a good song, some idiot talks about pills right after.” Again Mother Rosenbloom wound the chain around her fingers. Leora could hear it scraping against the diamonds on Mother’s hand.
“I thought Santa Claus brought you that radio, Mother,” said Leora.
“I guess he did—and no one ever yet shot Santa Claus, but I feel like it every time I hear that damned noise box—why I’d sooner have an auctioneer in the house.”
It was a full minute before Mother caught her breath.
Leora smiled. Mother looked at the beautiful girl, and smiled back at her, saying, with a sad note in her voice, “What a lovely thing you are, child—you’re only fit for the Pope—damn it, that’s sacrilege—but,” she sighed, “if I were a man I’d rather spend a wedding night with you than go to heaven in the morning.”
The gigantic woman’s eyes rested upon her. Leora did not know what to say. Finally she asked, “What about the first woman in this room, Mother? You didn’t tell me about her.”
Mother looked around the room. “There’s nothing much to tell, dear child,—Judge Brandon Slattery kept her a long time. He was nice to her, as he always is to everybody—then she ran away with a dago the judge introduced her to. The judge was hurt in his pride—they found her dead in a few months, and the dago was dead beside her. The papers made a lot of it for a day, and then it died down—as Judge Slattery says, ‘as dead as yesterday’s headline.’ No one ever knew who killed them. When they told Judge Slattery he just said, ‘Poor girl—that dago got her no place fast.’”
“You don’t mean the judge had them killed?”
Mother Rosenbloom twirled her watch and smiled, “No indeed—the judge wouldn’t do that—he’s always able to pick up three women if he loses one—most any man is—the judge really felt very bad about the whole thing— It’s just possible that some one did it thinking they were doing the judge a favor—people love him so much they’d kill for him— I’ve never seen the like of it in all my born days.” With a bewildered expression, Mother Rosenbloom took Leora by the arm and left the room.
“You’re meeting Judge Brandon Slattery soon,” she said to the girl. “He’s a very dear friend of mine. He’s the only one like him ever born, and they broke the cradle he laid in. He likes to be rich so he can give things away—and he can do more with a fist full of words than another man can with a whole dictionary, and if he ever saw the inside of a college it was when he went to loan a student money. As I often say, he can charm a bird out of a tree—the dogs follow him on the street, and he runs the state—if I didn’t believe in God—I’d believe there was something—that made a man like him.
“There’s no politician like him in the world—he really likes people, and he likes to do favors—he’s sad when people are sad, and he’s hungry when they’re hungry there’s something eating at his heart—but he’s always laughing— One time when he was here with a half dozen big men they all got to talking about the
Similar Books
