All-of-a-Kind Family Uptown Page 8

  With all that crush at the gate, I bet nobody even noticed. Otherwise, wouldn’t the ticket seller have yelled after me? So what am I worrying about? For once I got a free ride and now I have a nickel all for myself!

  It’s not yours! A voice inside her spoke up so loudly, she wondered if anyone else had heard.

  I don’t care! she answered herself defiantly. With all the nickels the train company has, what difference does one little nickel make? They wouldn’t even miss it.

  That still doesn’t make it right, the voice promptly replied. It’s stealing!

  Charlotte squirmed uneasily. She began to plead with herself. If I add it to my other savings and buy war stamps with it, wouldn’t that make it all right?

  She shook her head. No. You can’t fix it up that way. The Government wouldn’t want a cheated nickel! She pushed the handkerchief out of sight into her coat pocket.

  Clackety clack—clackety clack

  Give it back—give it back!

  the train wheels rattled warningly.

  No! It was hers! All hers! She opened her book and tried to read. But it was no use. The nickel seemed to be dancing on the page before her. She reached her station and got off. Somehow she had the feeling that the naughty nickel had stood up on its narrow rim and was rolling along behind her all the way to Tanta Olga’s.

  All afternoon as Charlotte painstakingly stitched pearl buttons to the delicate silk shirts, Tanta Olga noticed that she was even quieter than usual. Finally, at half past five, Tanta Olga said, “That’s enough for today, Charlotte. I must say, you certainly didn’t waste a minute. Here is a dime for you and another one for the fares.” Charlotte drew on her coat and fled from the house before her astonished aunt could even say good-by.

  At her home station, Charlotte trotted down the long flight of stairs to the street below. All she needed now was to round the corner and walk two blocks to home. Instead she crossed the street to the uptown side and marched steadily up the stairs straight to the ticket seller’s window.

  “Please, Mr. Ticket Man,” Charlotte’s voice pleaded, “take back the nickel.”

  The ticket seller looked at her quizzically. “Why, young lady? Isn’t it a good one?”

  “No! It’s been following me around all afternoon!”

  The man’s eyebrows shot up. He leaned forward. “That’s very interesting. Tell me all about it.”

  Slowly the story came out. “So here’s the nickel back,” Charlotte finished.

  The man nodded gravely. Tearing a ticket from his big round roll, he pushed it through the opening. “Drop the ticket into the chopper, young lady, and then come back here,” he ordered.

  Charlotte did as she was told. But she was worried. Why did he want her to come back?

  A trembling Charlotte stood before the ticket seller once more. She raised her eyes. Why, he wasn’t scowling or angry at all. He was smiling. “I’ve got something for you,” he said. He took something out of his pocket and held it up for her to see. “It’s a good nickel! A present for you,” he said, shoving it through the window. “Because you’re such an honest girl.”

  They looked at each other and grinned.

  The Red Boogey Man

  The weeks rolled by, and the time arrived for the Jewish High Holy Days. The day before Rosh Hashana Miss Brady said to the class, “Children, tomorrow a new year begins for the people of the Jewish faith. All of us know that now it is 1917, but who can tell us the date of the coming Jewish year?”

  Only Sarah raised her hand. “5678,” she declared proudly.

  “That’s right,” said Miss Brady, with an approving nod.

  Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, came and went, and finally it was Succos, the Harvest Festival. For the first time Papa was not building his own Succah, and the family felt a little sad. Mr. Healy would have been glad to allow Papa the use of his back garden for the little wooden hut, but Papa said no. He explained to the children that the members of the neighborhood synagogue were building a big Succah where all would celebrate together.

  For a long time there had been no word from either Jules or Bill. And then the letters started coming. They were somewhere in France in the thick of the fighting. The letters were chatty and cheerful, but Grace and Ella worried.

  Along came December and Hanukkah, the Festival of Lights. One night Grace was watching Ella fix a package to be sent to Jules overseas. “My, that’s an awful lot of sweets you’re sending!” she exclaimed.

  “To give him a lot of sweet thoughts about me,” Ella said wistfully.

  Henny snorted. “If it doesn’t give him indigestion first!”

  When Ella had finished, Grace said, “Now how about coming down and helping me get Bill’s box ready?”

  Ella was humming a catchy little tune as they went down the stairs. “What’s that you’re singing?” Grace asked.

  “It’s a Hanukkah song.” Ella translated:

  Oh ye little candle lights!

  Ye tell us tales without end.

  Ye tell of battle, heroism, and glory

  Wonders of long ago!

  “You know,” Grace mused, “it’s odd how much your Hanukkah is like our Christmas. The candles, singing of special holiday songs, and the children getting presents …”

  “Yes,” agreed Ella, “there are many things that are alike about our holidays. For instance, eggs are important in your celebration of Easter. Well, eggs play a big part in our Seder service at Passover. Then you have Lent when you fast and deny yourselves the eating of certain foods. During Passover week, we also deny ourselves eating of bread and other year-round foods. There are lots of other similar things like that.”

  “That’s so,” Grace said thoughtfully, as she opened her kitchen door. “I guess all religions have many things in common. Not just holidays, either.”

  “Speaking of holidays, Grace,” Mrs. Healy observed, “we haven’t half finished all the things we have to do. And Christmas practically upon us.”

  “It’ll be a sad Christmas for many a family this year,” Mr. Healy said soberly.

  “And especially sad for Bill’s folks,” Mrs. Healy added. “After all, he’s their whole family.”

  “Maybe we ought to invite them over to help us trim the tree,” suggested Mr. Healy.

  “That would have been nice,” Grace said, “but they won’t be here. They’re spending Christmas with relatives.”

  “How do you trim a tree?” Ella asked.

  “You mean to say you’ve never seen one?” Grace cried.

  “Only in pictures,” replied Ella. “Where we lived on the East Side, it was all Jewish and there weren’t any.”

  “For goodness sake!” Grace marveled. “Well, you’ll see one this year for sure.”

  “That is,” Mrs. Healy interposed, “if it is all right with your folks.”

  That very night Mrs. Healy spoke to Papa. He deliberated a moment, then answered. “So long as it’s just to look, that would be all right.”

  So it was that on Christmas Eve, Mama’s children came downstairs to visit with the Healys. The parlor door was opened wide, but on the threshold, no one moved. The children stood awestruck.

  The room was almost dark except for one corner where a graceful little fir tree stood. Many candles gleamed on its green branches, and glittering ornaments added bright spots of color. “Oh! It’s like a fairyland!” Charlotte murmured.

  Gertie breathed the fresh, woodsy smell. “Ah-h. It has such a wonderful fragrance!”

  The gleaming ornaments beckoned invitingly to Charlie. They were so shimmery, all different shapes and sizes! What did they feel like, he wondered? Some of the tinselly things dangled on the low branches, tantalizingly near. All he had to do was stretch out his hand …

  “Careful, Charlie!” Ella cried out.

  But Charlie was too entranced to heed. Lovingly, with gentle fingers, he caressed a shiny globe. Why, it was so light it felt like nothing! He let go, and the branch bounced back. The bright ball s
hook off and fell. With a soft, splintery sound, it shattered. Charlie stared at the bits of glass. It was all broken!

  “Oh, Charlie!” scolded Ella, “you were told to be careful!”

  “Sure, don’t you worry about it, Ella,” Mrs. Healy said. “Let him enjoy it. It’s not the first one broken today, nor will it be the last.”

  All at once, from the hallway, there came the jingle, jangle of many bells. Grace held up a finger. “Listen, Charlie,” she said, “do you hear?”

  Louder and nearer the bells sounded till the air was filled with their ringing. “Whoa, Donner and Blitzen!” a rollicking voice roared. Now someone was knocking on the parlor door. “Ho! Ho! Ho! Open up and let me in!”

  The door flew back, and there stood a roly-poly, jolly old man with a long, flowing white beard. He was dressed all in bright red, even to the tasseled cap on his snowy white head. Face rosy with laughter and eyes all a-twinkle, he came stamping into the parlor. “Ho! Ho! Ho!” he bellowed again, and he patted his big, fat tummy.

  Charlie gazed at him fascinated. Never had he seen anybody like this before. He was big as a mountain! And such a thundering voice!

  “Aha! Here’s a nice little feller. Have you been a good boy?” The giant was growling at him now. He was coming nearer. Charlie began backing away. Something about him seemed familiar. Like a flash, he knew who it was—this was the boogey man! The terrible boogey man who lurked in dark corners always ready to spring out at you if you had been a bad boy. The boogey man had come to catch him, to take him away from Mama and Papa, and everybody. “Go away, boogey man!” he screamed. “You bad, bad boogey man!”

  Everyone burst into laughter. “No, no, Charlie, that’s not a boogey man,” Grace tried to explain. “That’s Santa Claus.”

  But Charlie didn’t wait. He bolted out of the room and up the stairs as fast as his little legs could carry him, calling, “Mama! Mama! Mama!”

  “Oh, my!” Mrs. Healy was flabbergasted. “He really was frightened.”

  “Don’t be too upset, Mrs. Healy. After all, he’s never even heard of Santa Claus,” Ella said, smiling.

  Santa plucked off his whiskers, revealing a perspiring Mr. Healy. “I thought I was going to give the youngsters a bit of fun,” he remarked ruefully. “Instead I wind up scaring the wits out of the little feller. Do I look as bad as all that?”

  Grace laughed. “Not at all, Dad. I think you look grand. You see,” she went on, “Dad’s going to play Santa Claus at a children’s party at the hospital tomorrow, and he just couldn’t wait to try out his costume on us.”

  “I’d better go up and tell Mama what happened,” Ella said, as she started for the door. “She’ll be wondering what it’s all about. C’mon, kids, let’s all go. Thanks very much for letting us see your tree, Mrs. Healy. It’s really very beautiful.”

  Several days later Ella came down to the Healy household to show Grace her latest letter from Jules. It was then that Grace remarked, “It’s more than a month since Bill’s last letter. I can’t understand it.”

  “Well, you know how uncertain mail is during wartime,” Mrs. Healy said, reassuringly.

  The phone rang. “It’s for you, Grace,” Mr. Healy called out. “It’s Mrs. Talbot.”

  “Bill’s mother?” Grace cried. “Maybe she’s gotten word from Bill.” She flew to the phone. “Hello! Yes, this is Grace.”

  The others sat quietly watching, but even as they watched, Grace’s face grew pale. They could see her hand on the receiver tightening till the knuckles showed white. A sudden fear touched everyone.

  “Oh, no!” Grace was whispering into the phone. Helplessly she turned to her mother, the phone dropping from her grasp.

  Mrs. Healy grabbed hold of the receiver. “Hello! This is Mrs. Healy. What is it? What’s happened?” she cried. “Yes, yes, yes … I see. Oh, how dreadful!” She put her hand over the mouthpiece and spoke to Mr. Healy. “It’s Bill—there was a telegram—he’s missing in action.”

  Grace sat down, looking dazed. “Oh, Bill!” she sobbed.

  Ella looked at her friend dumbly.

  No one could think of anything to say.

  Play for Shavuos

  The newspapers were reporting fierce fighting on the battlefields of France. Wherever one looked there was a poster telling everybody to save for victory. “Buy War Stamps! Keep on Buying!”

  “Uncle Sam needs that extra shovelful of coal!” cautioned a sign near the elevated. Since early in January, every Monday was a Heatless Day. On that day, all factories except those working for the war shut down.

  Over the entrance to Papa’s cellar a sign read, “Your country needs your junk. Sell to any peddler.” Every bit of scrap iron, even tin cans, went into peddlers’ sacks.

  But it was food saving that was most important. Lessons were given in cooking without waste. People were urged to do without sugar, meat, fat, flour, so that these might be shipped to the soldiers and to our starving allies.

  “Mama, we have a Heatless Day, a Meatless Day, a Sugarless Day,” Henny said, grinning. “Why don’t they make a Homeworkless Day?”

  For Grace the busy days had their moments of emptiness. “If only we knew what happened,” she kept saying to Ella.

  “Maybe Jules will be able to tell us something,” Ella would say. But even as she spoke, she felt panic. Here it was, late in February, and no letter from Jules.

  March blew in with a chilly wind, but brought with it a letter from Jules at last.

  He had been wounded, Jules wrote, but not seriously. He was in a hospital in France, but would be back with his company in a month.

  Jules knew little about what had happened to Bill, except that he had volunteered for night patrol on a dangerous assignment. He had not returned to his unit, and nothing had been heard from him.

  It was spring. People tightened their belts and went grimly about their work. Another letter came from Jules in which he said that he was completely recovered and back on active duty. So once again fear for his safety nagged at Ella. Mama noticed the shadows deepening on Ella’s face. “Ella, there’s nothing like work to help you forget trouble,” she pointed out. And Ella resolved to heed Mama’s advice. She loved dramatics, so she threw herself wholeheartedly into directing plays at Sunday school. For every important Jewish holiday she had the children present a play. Now she was rehearsing the biblical story of Ruth and Naomi for Shavuos, the Feast of Weeks.

  Shavuos, which comes seven weeks after Passover, commemorates a festival that was held in Palestine in ancient times when the Jews were farmers. At this season of the year, they had finished gathering in their crops. Rejoicing in the harvest, they celebrated by making a pilgrimage to Jerusalem. Each one brought to the Temple the first fruits of his crop, wheat or barley, dates or figs, olive oil, grapes and pomegranates. This was to remind them that everything on the earth belongs to the Lord and that man is but the caretaker.

  At Shavuos, those who had rich fields were expected to share with the poor and the stranger. The needy were allowed to follow after the gleaners so that they might pick up the fallen grain, or to cut the grain in a corner of the field that was set aside especially for them.

  But even more important—Shavuos is the birthday of the Jewish religion. It was at this time that Moses received the Ten Commandments from God on Mount Sinai to give to his people.

  One Sunday the children came home from Sunday school, fluttering with excitement. “Mama,” Gertie cried, “guess what! You know the play we’re rehearsing with Ella? Well—we’re going to charge admission and give the money to the Red Cross!”

  “That’s very good,” Mama said. “Whose idea was that?”

  “Henny’s!” Sarah told her.

  “I asked permission from the principal,” Henny said proudly, “and he said yes.”

  “But now that it’s all settled,” Ella chimed in, “I’m scared to death. Suppose it doesn’t turn out well?”

  Mama smiled. “It will.”

  The next th
ree weeks were crowded with preparations for the big event. Ella’s guiding hand was in everything. Other teachers did the sewing, but it was Ella who designed the costumes. The scenery was being put together by the older boys, under Ella’s watchful eye, and with Ella doing much of the painting. It was Henny who worked out the dances, but it was Ella who offered suggestions. Sometimes she came home in high spirits. Everything was going along fine. Sometimes she despaired of everything. “Mama,” she complained, “that girl who’s playing Ruth—she’s a good actress, and she certainly looks beautiful on the stage, but she’ll never be able to sing Ruth’s song. I’m going crazy trying to teach her, but it’s just no use. She just hasn’t got the voice for it.”

  “Don’t take it so to heart,” Papa consoled her. “I’m sure no one expects her to be an opera singer. Besides, it’s a friendly audience, just the parents and relatives and neighbors. Ten years from now, who’ll remember who sang?”

  Henny clapped her hands. Her eyes sparkled. “That’s it!” she shouted. Rushing over to Ella, she whispered excitedly into her ear. Ella’s face lit up.

  “What is it? What is it?” the sisters clamored. But neither Ella nor Henny would tell.

  Then Shavuos was here. Friends and relatives brought gifts of plants and fruits and shared in the eating of the customary dairy foods that were served for this holiday.

  On the Sunday afternoon of the performance, the Hebrew School auditorium was packed. The Healys had been invited to see the play they had heard so much about. They sat in the same row with Papa, Mama, Charlie, Lena, Uncle Hyman, and Mrs. Shiner.