"O Mother!" reproved Fanny. "Anyone hearing you would think we were
still in the push-cart district."

"Stop your nagging, Sis, and let ma alone," commanded Benny, patting his
mother's arm affectionately. "I'm home only once a month. Let her feed
me what she pleases. My stomach is bomb-proof."

"Do I hear that the President is coming to your play?" said Abe as he
stuffed a napkin over his diamond-studded shirt-front.

"Why shouldn't he come?" returned Benny. "The critics say it's the
greatest antidote for the race hatred created by the war. If you want to
know, he is coming to-night; and what's more, our box is next to the
President's."

"_Nu_, Mammeh," sallied Jake, "did you ever dream in Delancey Street
that we should rub sleeves with the President?"

"I always said that Benny had more head than the rest of you," replied
the mother.

As the laughter died away, Jake went on:

"Honor you are getting plenty; but how much _mezummen_ does this play
bring you? Can I invest any of it in real estate for you?"

"I'm getting ten per cent. royalties of the gross receipts," replied the
youthful playwright.

"How much is that?" queried Hanneh Breineh.

"Enough to buy up all your fish markets in Delancey Street," laughed Abe
in good-natured raillery at his mother.

Her son's jest cut like a knife-thrust in her heart. She felt her heart
ache with the pain that she was shut out from their successes. Each
added triumph only widened the gulf. And when she tried to bridge this
gulf by asking questions, they only thrust her back upon herself.

"Your fame has even helped me get my hat trade solid with the Four
Hundred," put in Fanny. "You bet I let Mrs. Van Suyden know that our box
is next to the President's. She said she would drop in to meet you. Of
course she let on to me that she hadn't seen the play yet, though my
designer said she saw her there on the opening night."

"Oh, Gosh! the toadies!" sneered Benny. "Nothing so sickens you with
success as the way people who once shoved you off the sidewalk come
crawling to you on their stomachs begging you to dine with them."

"Say, that leading man of yours he's some class," cried Fanny. "That's
the man I'm looking for. Will you invite him to supper after the
theater?"

The playwright turned to his mother.

"Say, Ma," he said laughingly, "how would you like a real actor for a
son-in-law?"

"She should worry," mocked Sam. "She'll be discussing with him the
future of