iving in fear of her, she in distrust of us. If Mrs. Hutch would only
trust me, and the tax collectors would trust her, we could all live
happily forever.

I was the more certain that my argument would prevail with the
landlady, if only I could make her listen, because I understood her
point of view. I even sympathized with her. What she said about the
babies, for instance, was not all unreasonable to me. There was this
last baby, my mother's sixth, born on Mrs. Hutch's premises--yes, in
the windowless, air-tight bedroom. Was there any need of this baby?
When May was born, two years earlier, on Wheeler Street, I had
accepted her; after a while I even welcomed her. She was born an
American, and it was something to me to have one genuine American
relative. I had to sit up with her the whole of her first night on
earth, and I questioned her about the place she came from, and so we
got acquainted. As my mother was so ill that my sister Frieda, who was
nurse, and the doctor from the dispensary had all they could do to
take care of her, the baby remained in my charge a good deal, and so I
got used to her. But when Celia came I was two years older, and my
outlook was broader; I could see around a baby's charms, and discern
the disadvantages of possessing the baby. I was supplied with all
kinds of relatives now--I had a brother-in-law, and an American-born
nephew, who might become a President. Moreover, I knew there was not
enough to eat before the baby's advent, and she did not bring any
supplies with her that I could see. The baby was one too many. There
was no need of her. I resented her existence. I recorded my resentment
in my journal.

I was pleased with my broad-mindedness, that enabled me to see all
sides of the baby question. I could regard even the rent question
disinterestedly, like a philosopher reviewing natural phenomena. It
seemed not unreasonable that Mrs. Hutch should have a craving for the
rent as such. A school-girl dotes on her books, a baby cries for its
rattle, and a landlady yearns for her rents. I could easily believe
that it was doing Mrs. Hutch spiritual violence to withhold the rent
from her; and hence the vehemence with which she pursued the arrears.

Yes, I could analyze the landlady very nicely. I was certainly
qualified to act as peacemaker between her and my family. But I must
go to her own house, and _not_ on a rent day. Saturday evening, when
she was embittered by many disappointments, was n