"She
don't know where my papa is neither. She don't know is he on the country
even. She don't know _nothings_ over him. Me und my mamma we looks all
times on blocks und streets und stores. On'y we couldn't to find him.
Und my mamma, she works all day by factories, und by night she comes on
the house und brings more work. She ain't got time for nothings neither,
on'y sewing und looking fer my poor papa."

"Then your papa ain't dead?" queried Yetta.

"No, he ain't dead; on'y he loses him the job." Rosie's voice as she
made this statement, and Yetta's manner as she received it, would seem
to say that if this were not death, it was very little better.

To Isidore Rashnowsky it had been the "sudden and unprovided death" of
which the Prayer Book speaks. It had meant the destruction of the very
delicate equilibrium by which he and his wife maintained their tiny but
peaceful household. It threw the whole burden of four lives upon Mrs.
Rashnowsky's thin and twisted shoulders. It drove him, after three weeks
of unsuccessful quest for work, to cut himself off from all he cared
for. Starvation was very close to them. He could contribute nothing, and
he determined to take nothing: to increase the niggardly supply by
diminishing the hungry demand. Mrs. Rashnowsky's earnings--even when
augmented by the home work which the law forbids but life demands--was
scant indeed for the maintenance of the mother and the two children. All
these things Isidore explained to her patiently, resignedly, and with
what bravery he could muster. And she agreed, nodding wearily over her
sewing. But from his conclusion, from his determination to remove
himself and his hunger from her charge, she persistently dissented.
Rather, she insisted, would she take the babies to the Children's Court
and get them committed to some institution. Then he and she could face
the world together. She could find courage for that. But not to live
without him. Never for that.

"It is but for a time," he hopefully remonstrated, "and if we give the
children we cannot easily get them back. Children such as ours are not
often found. They would be adopted by some rich man before, maybe, I
could find a job."

This consideration had not occurred to Mrs. Rashnowsky, but when it was
pointed out to her she was forced to admit its weight. The physical
charm of Rosie, kimona clad and dirty, might not have appealed as
insistently as her father feared to the rich adopter, and the
rag-