What her given name was in the old country has never reached me; but
when her family had learned a little English, and had begun to affect
the manners and characteristics of their more Americanized
acquaintances, they called her Daisy. She was the only daughter; her age
was less than that of two brothers, and she was older than three. The
family consisted of these six, Mr. and Mrs. Obloski, the parents,
Grandfather Pinnievitch, and Great-grandmother Brenda--a woman so old,
so shrunken, so bearded, and so eager to live that her like was not to
be found in the city.

Upon settling in America two chief problems seemed to confront the
family: to make a living and to educate the five boys. The first problem
was solved for a time by The Organization. Obloski was told by an
interpreter that he would be taken care of if he and his father-in-law
voted as directed and as often as is decent under a wise and paternal
system of government. To Obloski, who had about as much idea what the
franchise stands for as The Organization had, this seemed an agreeable
arrangement. Work was found for him, at a wage. He worked with immense
vigor, for the wage seemed good. Soon, however, he perceived that older
Americans (of his own nationality) were laughing at him. Then he did not
work so hard; but the wage, froth of the city treasury, came to him just
the same. He ceased working, and pottered. Still he received pay. He
ceased pottering. He joined a saloon. And he became the right-hand man
of a right-hand man of a right-hand man who was a right-hand man of a
very important man who was--left-handed.

The two older boys were at school in a school; the three others were at
school in the street. Mrs. Obloski was occupied with a seventh child,
whose sex was not yet determined. Grandfather Pinnievitch was learning
to smoke three cigars for five cents; and Great-grandmother Brenda sat
in the sun, stroking her beard and clinging to life. Nose and chin
almost obstructed the direct passage to Mrs. Brenda's mouth. She looked
as if she had gone far in an attempt to smell her own chin, and would
soon succeed.

But for Daisy there was neither school, nor play in the street, nor
sitting in the sun. She cooked, and she washed the dishes, and she did
the mending, and she made the beds, and she slept in one of the beds
with her three younger brothers. In spite of the great wage so easily
won the Obloskis were very poor, for New York. All would be well when