You Should Worry Says John Henry | Page 3

backwards. Mr. Schwartz has a fad
for collecting apartment houses. He owns the largest assortment of
People Coops in the city. All the modern improvements, too. Hot and
cold windows, running gas and noiseless janitors. Mr. Schwartz is the
inventor of the idea of having two baths in every apartment so that the
lessee will have less excuse for not being water broke."
Ikey never cracked a smile.

"In Mr. Schwartz's apartment houses," I continued, while Bunch kicked
my shins under the table, "you will find self-freezing refrigerators and
self-leaving servants. All the rooms are light rooms, when you light the
gas. Two of his houses overlook the Park and all of them overlook the
building laws. The floors are made of concrete so that if you want to
bring a horse in the parlor you can do so without kicking off the plaster
in the flat below. Every room has folding doors, and when the water
pipes burst the janitor has folding arms."
"Quit your joshing, John! you'll embarrass Mr. Schwartz," laughed
Bunch somewhat nervously, but Ikey's grin never flickered.
"Is Mr. Schwartz deaf and dumb?" Peaches whispered.
"Intermittently so," I whispered back; "sometimes for hours at a time he
cannot speak a word and can hear only the loudest tones."
Aunt Martha heard my comment on Ikey's infirmity and was about to
become intensely sympathetic and tell him how her brother's wife was
cured when Bunch interrupted loudly by asking after Uncle Peter's
health.
"Never better," answered Aunt Martha. "He has spent all the morning
arranging the program of dancing for our little party. He insists upon
having the Virginia Reel, the old-fashioned waltz, the Polka and the
Lancers. Uncle Peter has a perfect horror of these modern dances and
Peaches and Alice and I share it with him." Then she turned to Ikey:
"Don't you think these modern dances are perfectly disgusting?"
Poor Ikey looked reproachfully at the old lady a second, then with
gathering astonishment he slid silently off the chair and struck the floor
with a bump.
Aunt Martha was so rattled over this unexpected effort on Mr.
Schwartz's part that she upset her coffee and Ikey got most of it in the
back of the neck.
When peace was finally restored the old lady came to the surface with

an envelope which had been lying on the table near her plate.
"Is this your letter, John?" she asked, and then, arranging her glasses,
read with great deliberation, "Mr. I. Schwartz, Tango Teacher, care of
Kumearly and Staylates' Cabaret, New York."
Peaches and Alice went into the ice business right away quick.
Aunt Martha, in pained surprise, looked at me and then at Bunch, and
finally focused a steady beam of interrogation upon the countenance of
Mr. Schwartz.
Ikey never whimpered.
Then Bunch took the letter from the open-eyed Aunt Martha and leaped
to the rescue while I came out of the trance slowly.
"It's too bad Mr. Schwartz forgot his ear trumpet," Bunch said quickly,
and Ikey was wise to the tip in a minute.
Peaches sniffed suspiciously, and I knew she had the gloves on.
"Mr. Schwartz's affliction is terrible," she said with a chill in every
word. "How did you converse with him before our arrival?"
"Oh! he understands the lip language and can talk back on his fingers,"
I hastened to explain, looking hard at Ikey, whose masklike face gave
no token that he understood what was going on.
"I thought I understood you to say Mr. Schwartz is a real estate dealer!"
Peaches continued, while the thermometer went lower and lower.
"So he is," I replied.
"Then why does his correspondent address him as a Tango Teacher?"
friend wife said slowly, and I could hear the icebergs grinding each
other all around me.
"I think I can explain that," Bunch put in quietly. Then with the utmost

deliberation he looked Ikey in the eye and said, "Mr. Schwartz, it's
really none of my business, but would you mind telling me why you, a
real estate dealer, should have a letter in your possession which is
addressed to you as a Tango Teacher? Answer me on your fingers."
[Illustration]
Ikey delivered the goods.
In a minute he had both paws working overtime and such a knuckle
twisting no mortal man ever indulged in before.
"He says," Bunch began to interpret, "that the letter is not his. It is
intended for Isadore Schwartz, a wicked cousin of his who is a victim
of the cabaret habit. Mr. Schwartz is now complaining bitterly with his
fingers because his letters and those intended for his renegade cousin
become mixed almost every day. These mistakes are made because the
initials are identical. He also says that--he--hopes--the--presence--
of--this--particular--letter--in--his--possession--does--not--offend--
the--ladies--because--while--it--is--addressed--to--a--tango-teacher--
the--contents--are--quite--harmless--being--but--a--small--bill--from--
the--dentist."
Ikey's fingers kept on working nervously, as though