sterday morning," he said. "In the
daytime is all right going up there, but in the night, Lesengeld, a
bloodhound could get twisted. Every time I go up there I think wonder I
get back home at all."

"I bet yer," Lesengeld said. "The other evening I seen a fillum by the
name Lawst in the Jungle, and----"

"Excuse me, gentlemen," Schindelberger interrupted, "I got a little
business to attend to by my office, and if it's all the same to you I
would come here with Rudnik to-morrow morning ten o'clock."

"By the name Lawst in the Jungle," Lesengeld repeated with an
admonitory glare at Schindelberger, "which a young feller gets ate up
with a tiger already; and I says to Mrs. Lesengeld: 'Mommer,' I says,
'people could say all they want to how fine it is to live in the
country,' I says, 'give me New York City every time,' I says to my
wife."

* * * * *

Harris Rudnik had been encouraged to misogyny by cross eyes and a
pockmarked complexion. Nevertheless, he was neither so confirmed in his
hatred of the sex nor so discouraged by his physical deformities as to
neglect shaving himself and changing into a clean collar and his
Sabbath blacks before he began his journey to the Bella Hirshkind Home.
Thus when he alighted from the Mount Vernon car at Ammerman Avenue he
presented, at least from the rear, so spruce an appearance as to
attract the notice of no less a person than Miss Blooma Duckman
herself.

Miss Duckman was returning from an errand on which she had been
dispatched by the superintendent of the Home, for of all the inmates
she was not only the youngest but the spryest, and although she was at
least half a block behind Harris when she first caught sight of him,
she had no difficulty in overtaking him before he reached the railroad
track.

"Excuse me," she said as he hesitated at the side of the track, "are
you maybe looking for the Bella Hirshkind Home?"

Harris started and blushed, but at length his misogyny asserted itself
and he turned a beetling frown on Miss Duckman.

"What d'ye mean, am I looking for the Bella Hirshkind Home?" he said.
"Do you suppose I come up here all the way from Brooklyn Bridge to
watch the trains go by?"

"I thought maybe you didn't know the way," Miss Duckman suggested. "You
go along that there path and it's the first house you are coming to."

She pointed to the path skirting the railroad track, and Harris began
to perspire as he found him