occasion he was disappointed. To be sure the appetizing odour of
_gedampftes kalbfleisch_ wafted itself down the elevator shaft as he
entered the gilt and plaster-porphyry entrance from the street, but when
he crossed the threshold of his own apartment the robust wail of his son
and heir mingled with the tones of Lina, the Slavic maid. Of Mrs.
Perlmutter, however, there was no sign.

"Where's Minnie?" he demanded.

"Mrs. Perlmutter, she go out," Lina announced, "and she ain't coming
home yet."

Not since the return from their honeymoon had Minnie failed to be at
home to greet her husband on his arrival from business, and Morris was
about to telephone a general alarm to police headquarters when the
doorbell rang sharply and Mrs. Perlmutter entered. Her hat, whose size
and weight ought to have lent it stability, was tilted at a dangerous
angle, and beneath its broad brim her eyes glistened with unmistakable
tears.

"Minnie _leben_," Morris cried, as he clasped her in his arms, "what is
it?"

Sympathy only opened anew the floodgates of Mrs. Perlmutter's emotions,
and before she was sufficiently calm to disclose the cause of her
distress, the _gedampftes kalbfleisch_ gave evidence of its impending
destruction by a strong odour of scorching. Hastily Mrs. Perlmutter
dried her eyes and ran to the kitchen, so that it was not until the
rescued dinner smoked on the dining-room table that Morris learned the
reason for his wife's tears.

"Such a room, Morris," Mrs. Perlmutter declared; "like a pigsty, and
not a crust of bread in the house. I met the poor woman in the meat
market and she tried to beg a piece of liver from that loafer
Hirschkein. Not another cent of my money will he ever get. I bought a
big piece of steak for her and then I went home with her. Her poor baby,
Morris, looked like a little skeleton."

Morris shook his head from side to side and made inarticulate
expressions of commiseration through his nose, his mouth being
temporarily occupied by about half a pound of luscious veal.

"Her husband has a job for eight dollars a week," she continued, "and
they have to live on that."

Morris swallowed the veal with an effort.

"In Russland," he began, "six people----"

"I know," Mrs. Perlmutter interrupted, "but this is America, and you've
got to go around with me right after dinner and see the poor people."

Morris shrugged his shoulders.

"If I must, I must," he said, helping himself to more of the veal