that most of these early customers spoke to him or to Joe
Schwartz about his health. There were few of them who did not know what
was troubling him. Among those friendly and unpretending and
well-acquainted people any one's affairs were every one's affairs--why
make a secret of what was, after all, only the routine of human life
the world over and the ages through? Thus Otto had the lively but
tactful sympathy of the whole community.

He became less gloomy under the warmth of this succession of friendly
faces and friendly inquiries. But as trade slackened, toward noon, he
had more leisure to think, and the throbbing ache returned to his heavy
heart. All the time pictures of her were passing before his eyes. He
had known her so long and she had become such an intimate part of his
daily life, so interwoven with it, that he could not look at present,
past or future without seeing her.

Why, he had known her since she was a baby. Did he not remember the
day when he, a small boy on his way to school, had seen her toddle
across the sidewalk in front of him? Could he ever forget how she had
reached with great effort into a snowbank, had dug out with her small,
red-mittened hands a chunk of snow, and, lifting it high above her
head, had thrown it weakly at him with such force that she had fallen
headlong upon the sidewalk? He had seen her every day since
then--every day!

He most clearly of all recalled her as a school-girl. Those were the
days of the German bands of six and seven and even eight pieces,
wandering as the hand-organs do now. And always with them came a swarm
of little girls who danced when the band played, and of little boys who
listened and watched. He had often followed her as she followed a
band, all day on a Saturday. And he had never wearied of watching her
long, slim legs twinkling tirelessly to the music. She invented new
figures and variations on steps which the other girls adopted. She and
her especial friends became famous among the children throughout the
East Side; even grown people noted the grace and originality of a
particular group of girls, led by a black-haired, slim-legged one who
danced with all there was of her. And how their mothers did whip them
when they returned from a day of this forbidden joy! But they were off
again the next Saturday--who would not pass a bad five minutes for the
sake of hours on hours of delight?

And Hilda was gone from his life, was sailing away on