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coin with his handkerchief； and dropped it into the black
pocket purse； he carried。 It was four o'clock when he reached
the restaurant。 Business was stagnant。 There was not a single
customer in the place。
Business picked up around five。 The boy he had recently hired
to work part time showed up early。 The boy's name was Harry
Minowitz。 He lived in the same neighborhood with Mick and
Baby。 Eleven applicants had answered the ad in the paper； but
Harry seemed to be best bet。 He was well developed for his
age； and neat。 Biff had noticed the boy's teeth while talking to
him during the interview。 Teeth were always a good
indication。 His were large and very clean and white。 Harry
wore glasses； but that would not matter in the work。 His
mother made ten dollars a week sewing for a tailor down the
street； and Harry was an only child。
'Well；' Biff said。 'You've been with me a week； Harry。 Think
you're going to like it？' 'Sure； sir。 Sure I like it。
'
Biff turned the ring on his finger。 'Let's see。 What time do you
get off from school？' 〃Three o'clock； sir。'200
'Well； that gives you a couple of hours for study and
recreation。 Then here from six to ten。 Does that leave you
enough time for plenty of sleep？
'
'Plenty。 I don't need near that much。
'
'You need about nine and a half hours at your age； son。 Pure；
wholesome sleep。
'
He felt suddenly embarrassed。 Maybe Harry would think it
was none of his business。 Which it wasn't anyway。 He started
to turn aside and then thought of something。
。You go to Vocational？'
Harry nodded and rubbed his glasses on his shirtsleeve。
'Let's see。 I know a lot of girls and boys there。 Alva Richards
—I know his father。 And Maggie Henry。 And a
kid named Mick Kelly' He felt as though his ears
had caught afire。 He knew himself to be a fool。 He wanted to
turn and walk away and yet he only stood there； smiling and
mashing his nose with his thumb。 'You know her？' he asked
faintly。
'Sure； I live right next door to her。 But in school I'm a senior
while she's a freshman。'
Biff stored this meager information neatly in his mind to be
thought over later when he was alone。 'Business will be quiet
here for a while；' he said hurriedly。 Til leave it with you。 By
now you know how to handle things。 Just watch any
customers drinking beer and remember how many they've
drunk so you won't have to ask them and depend on what they
say。 Take your time making change and keep track of what
goes on。'
Biff shut himself in his room downstairs。 This was the place
where he kept his files。 The room had only one small window
and looked out on the side alley； and the air was musty and
cold。 Huge stacks of newspapers rose up to the ceiling。 A
home…made filing case covered one wall。 Near the door there
was an old…fashioned rocking…chair and a small table laid with
a pair of shears； a dictionary； and a mandolin。 Because of the
piles of newspaper it was impossible to take more than two
steps in any direction。 Biff rocked himself in the chair and
languidly plucked the strings of the mandolin。 His eyes closed
and he began to sing in a doleful voice：
201
I went to the animal fair。
The birds and the beasts were there；
And the old baboon by the light of the moon
Was combing his auburn hair。
He finished with a chord from the strings and the last sounds
shivered to silence in the cold air。
To adopt a couple of little children。 A boy and a girl。 About
three or four years old so they would always feel like he was
their own father。 Their Dad。 Our Father。 The little girl like
Mick （or Baby？） at that age。 Round cheeks and gray eyes and
flaxen hair。 And the clothes he would make for her—pink
crgpe de Chine frocks with dainty smocking at the yoke and
sleeves。 Silk socks and white buckskin shoes。 And a little red…
velvet coat and cap and muff for winter。 The boy was dark and
black…haired。 The little boy walked behind him and copied the
things he did。 In the summer the three of them would go to a
cottage on the Gulf and he would dress the children in their
sun suits and guide them carefully into the green； shallow
waves。 And then they would bloom as he grew old。 Our
Father。 And they would come to him with questions and he
would answer them。
Why not？
Biff took up his mandolin again。 'Tum…ti…tim…ti…tee； ti…tee； the
wedd…ing of the painted doll' The mandolin mocked the
refrain。 He sang through all the verses and wagged his foot to
the time。 Then he played 'K…K…K…Katie；' and 'Love's Old
Sweet Song。' These pieces were like the Agua Florida in the
way they made him remember。 Everything。 Through the first
year when he was happy and when she seemed happy even
too。 And when the bed came down with them twice in three
months。 And he didn't know that all the time her brain was
busy with how she could save a nickle or squeeze out an extra
dime。 And then him with Rio and the girls at her place。 Gyp
and Madeline and Lou。 And then later when suddenly he lost
it。 When he could lie with a woman no longer。 Mothero…eod！
So that at first it seemed everything was gone。
Lucile always understood the whole set…up。 She knew the kind
of woman Alice was。 Maybe she knew about him；202
too。 Lucile would urge them to get a divorce。 And she did all a
person could to try to straighten out their messes。
Biff winced suddenly。 He jerked his hands from the strings of
the mandolin so that a phrase of music was chopped off。 He
sat tense in his chair。 Then suddenly he laughed quietly to
himself。 What had made him come across this？ Ah； Lordy
Lordy Lord！ It was the day of his twenty…ninth birthday； and
Lucile had asked him to drop by her apartment when he
finished with an appointment at the dentist's。 He expected
from this some little remembrance—a plate of cherry tarts or a
good shirt。 She met him at the door and blindfolded his eyes
before he entered。 Then she said she would be back in a
second。 In the silent room he listened to her footsteps and
when she had reached the kitchen he broke wind。 He stood in
the room with his eyes blindfolded and pooted。 Then all at
once he knew with horror he was not alone。 There was a titter
and soon great rolling whoops of laughter deafened him。 At
that minute Lucile came back and undid his eyes。 She held a
caramel cake on a platter。 The room was full of people。 Leroy
and that bunch and Alice； of course。 He wanted to crawl up
the wall。 He stood there with his bare face hanging out；
burning hot all over。 They kidded him and the next hour was
almost as bad as the death of his mother— the way he took it。
Later that night he drank a quart of
whiskey。 And for weeks afterMotherogod！
Biff chuckled coldly。 He plucked a few chords on his
mandolin and started a rollicking cowboy song。 His voice was
a mellow tenor and he closed his eyes as he sang。 The room
was almost dark。 The damp chill penetrated to his bones so
that his legs ached with rheumatism。 。
At last he put away his mandolin and rocked slowly in 。 the
darkness。 Death。 Sometimes he could almost feel it in the
room with him。 He rocked to and fro in the chair。 What did