The Fortune Hunter | Page 7

he always used to say, `What sort of a scoundrel is he?' That was good sense.''
Otto made no reply. No doubt these maxims were sound and wise; but how was he to apply them? How could he pretend indifference when at sight of her he could open his jaws only enough to chatter them, could loosen his tongue only enough to roll it thickly about? ``I can work,'' he said to himself, ``and I can pay my debts and have something over; but when it comes to love I'm no good.''

II
BRASS OUTSHINES GOLD
Hilda returned to her father's shop and was busy there until nine o'clock. Then Sophie Liebers came and they went into the Avenue for a walk. They pushed their way through and with the throngs up into Tompkins Square--the center of one of the several vast districts, little known because little written about, that contain the real New York and the real New Yorkers. In the Square several thousand young people were promenading, many of the girls walking in pairs, almost all the young men paired off, each with a young woman. It was warm, and the stars beamed down upon the hearts of young lovers, blotting out for them electric lights and surrounding crowds. It caused no comment there for a young couple to walk hand in hand, looking each at the other with the expression that makes commonplace eyes wonderful. And when the sound of a kiss came from a somewhat secluded bench, the only glances east in the direction whence it had come were glances of approval or envy.
``There's Otto Heilig dogging us,'' said Hilda to Sophie, as they walked up and down. ``Do you wonder I hate him?'' They talked in American, as did all the young people, except with those of their elders who could speak only German.
Sophie was silent. If Hilda had been noting her face she would have seen a look of satisfaction.
``I can't bear him,'' went on Hilda. ``No girl could. He's so stupid and--and common!'' Never before had she used that last word in such a sense. Mr. Feuerstein had begun to educate her.
Sophie's unobserved look changed to resentment. ``Of course he's not equal to Mr. Feuerstein,'' she said. ``But he's a very nice fellow--at least for an ordinary girl.'' Sophie's father was an upholsterer, and not a good one. He owned no tenements-- was barely able to pay the rent for a small corner of one. Thus her sole dower was her pretty face and her cunning. She had an industrious, scheming, not overscrupulous brain and--her hopes and plans. Nor had she time to waste. For she was nearer twenty-three than twenty-two, at the outer edge of the marriageable age of Avenue A, which believes in an early start at what it regards as the main business of life--the family.
``You surely couldn't marry such a man as Otto!'' said Hilda absently. Her eyes were searching the crowd, near and far.
Sophie laughed. ``Beggars can't be choosers,'' she answered. ``I think he's all right--as men go. It wouldn't do for me to expect too much.''
Just then Hilda caught sight of Mr. Feuerstein--the godlike head, the glorious hair, the graceful hat. Her manner changed--her eyes brightened, her cheeks reddened, and she talked fast and laughed a great deal. As they passed near him she laughed loudly and called out to Sophie as if she were not at her elbow--she feared he would not see. Mr. Feuerstein turned his picturesque head, slowly lifted his hat and joined them. At once Hilda became silent, listening with rapt attention to the commonplaces he delivered in sonorous, oracular tones.
As he deigned to talk only to Hilda, who was walking between Sophie and him, Sophie was free to gaze round. She spied Otto Heilig drooping dejectedly along. She adroitly steered her party so that it crossed his path. He looked up to find himself staring at Hilda. She frowned at this disagreeable apparition into her happiness, and quickened her step. But Sophie, without letting go of Hilda's hand, paused and spoke to Otto. Thus Hilda was forced to stop and to say ungraciously: ``Mr. Feuerstein, Mr. Heilig.''
Then she and Mr. Feuerstein went on, and Sophie drew the reluctant Otto in behind them. She gradually slackened her pace, so that she and Heilig dropped back until several couples separated them from Hilda and Mr. Feuerstein. A few minutes and Hilda and Mr. Feuerstein were seated on a bench in the deep shadow of a tree, Sophie and Heilig walking slowly to and fro a short distance away.
Heilig was miserable with despondent jealousy. He longed to inquire about this remarkable-looking new friend of Hilda's. For Mr. Feuerstein seemed to be of that class of strangers whom Avenue A condemns on their very appearance. It associates respectability with work