The Fortune Hunter | Page 6

he had
to open shop for the Sunday supper rush.
``Why--that is--not exactly--no,'' he stammered. Hilda had told him not
to come, but he knew that if he admitted it to her parents they would be
severe with her. He didn't like anybody to be severe with Hilda, and he
felt that their way of helping his courtship was not suited to the modern
ideas. ``They make her hate me,'' he often muttered. But if he resented
it he would offend them and Hilda too; if he acquiesced he encouraged
them and added to Hilda's exasperation.
Mrs. Brauner knew at once that Hilda was in some way the cause of the
break in the custom. ``Oh, you must come,'' she said. ``We'd feel
strange all week if we didn't see you on Sunday.''
``Yes--I must have my cards,'' insisted Brauner. He and Otto always
played pinochle; Otto's eyes most of the time and his thoughts all the
time were on Hilda, in the corner, at the zither, playing the maddest,
most romantic music; her father therefore usually won, poor at the
game though he was. It made him cross to lose, and Otto sometimes
defeated his own luck deliberately when love refused to do it for him.
``Very well, then--that is--if I can-- I'll try to come.''
Several customers pushed past him into his shop and he had to rejoin
his partner, Schwartz, behind the counters. Brauner and his wife walked
slowly home--it was late and there would be more business than Hilda
and August could attend to. As they crossed Third Street Brauner said:
``Hilda must go and tell him to come. This is her doing.''
``But she can't do that,'' objected Mrs. Brauner. ``She'd say it was
throwing herself at his head.''
``Not if I send her?'' Brauner frowned with a seeming of severity. ``Not
if I, her father, send her--for two chickens, as we're out?'' Then he
laughed. His fierceness was the family joke when Hilda was small she
used to say, ``Now, get mad, father, and make little Hilda laugh!''

Hilda was behind the counter, a customer watching with fascinated
eyes the graceful, swift movements of her arms and hands as she tied
up a bundle. Her sleeves were rolled to her dimpled elbows, and her
arms were round and strong and white, and her skin was fine and
smooth. Her shoulders were wide, but not square; her hips were narrow,
her wrists, her hands, her head, small. She looked healthy and vigorous
and useful as well as beautiful.
When the customers had gone Brauner said: ``Go up to Schwartz and
Heilig, daughter, and ask them for two two-pound chickens. And tell
Otto Heilig you'll be glad to see him to-morrow.''
``But we don't need the chickens, now. We--'' Hilda's brow contracted
and her chin came out.
``Do as I tell you,'' said her father.
``MY children shall not sink to the disrespect of these days.''
``But I shan't be here to-morrow! I've made another engagement.''
``You SHALL be here to-morrow! If you don't wish young Heilig here
for your own sake, you must show consideration for your parents. Are
they to be deprived of their Sunday afternoon? You have never done
this before, Hilda. You have never forgotten us before.''
Hilda hung her head; after a moment she unrolled her sleeves, laid
aside her apron and set out. She was repentant toward her father, but
she felt that Otto was to blame. She determined to make him suffer for
it--how easy it was to make him suffer, and how pleasant to feel that
this big fellow was her slave! She went straight up to him. ``So you
complained of me, did you?'' she said scornfully, though she knew well
that he had not, that he could not have done anything that even seemed
mean.
He flushed. ``No--no,'' he stammered. ``No, indeed, Hilda. Don't
think--''
She looked contempt. ``Well, you've won. Come down Sunday
afternoon. I suppose I'll have to endure it.''
``Hilda, you're wrong. I will NOT come!'' He was angry, but his mind
was confused. He loved her with all the strength of his simple,
straightforward nature. Therefore he appeared at his worst before
her--usually either incoherent or dumb. It was not surprising that
whenever it was suggested that only a superior man could get on so
well as he did, she always answered: ``He works twice as hard as any

one else, and you don't need much brains if you'll work hard.''
She now cut him short. ``If you don't come I'll have to suffer for it,'' she
said. ``You MUST come! I'll not be glad to see you. But if you don't
come I'll never speak to you again!'' And she left him and went to the
other counter and ordered the chickens from