ss,
but there were more years in the calendar; and though he received
nothing in return for his unstinted affection and admiration, his love
did not take from him the right to give.

He came regularly to see Kathleen of a Sunday, to dinner if she were
gracious enough to invite him; if not, then in the afternoon, when once
in awhile she would go out with him to dinner, and to a meeting
afterwards. Sometimes it would be at the forum at Cooper Union,
sometimes in a liberal church, but always the great problem of the
world, the relation of labor to capital, would come under discussion.
Then Kathleen would sit tense in her seat or lean forward to make sure
that she caught each of the speaker's words. She would grunt with
disgust at the rank conservatism of an argument; or again, applaud with
all her might the denunciation of oppression and greed. The man at her
side would watch her, filled with admiration at her splendid spirit, but
himself moved not at all by what he heard. Only, occasionally, he would
be almost angry at the invective hurled at the capitalist class, and had
once said as he went out, "If the dirty Jew didn't like America he might
go back to Russia on the first boat, and the country be all the better."
Kathleen was furious at this heresy, and they walked the streets for an
hour afterward discussing the sins and virtues of America. It was then
that he told her of his grandfather, and she listened with enthusiastic
interest to the recital of the revolutionist's political activities and
his escape. "But what did he do after he got here?" was her question,
and when she learned that he had then sat down and worshiped the land of
his adoption, she lost interest. "His light burned out in his youth,"
was her comment. William Applebaum, third, for the first time resented
her speech, and told hotly of the Civil War and of his grandfather's
part in it. He won Kathleen's favor by his defense of his hero, and she
never again spoke in any way but appreciatively of his revolutionary
forbear, but she showed no greater favor to him.

When she took the flat on East Eighth Street, he made shelves for her at
the two south windows and brought to her kitchen a wealth of potted
plants. The delicate flowers died, for the Irish woman was very
forgetful of them; and then, with sorrow at his heart for his cherished
slips, but with no word of blame, he filled up the ranks with hardy
geraniums that neglect could not kill. Attracted at t