Pay Day at the Perlmans'
(Continued from Page 133)
to do such services.
"Mr. Perlman," said Rose quietly, after she had been paid, "I am sorry—but, I am leaving your employ."
Mrs. Perlman who was standing by her husband's side, turned crimson. She felt insulted, spurned ignominiously. But the gratifying thought flashed through her mind that she would never more have to endure the pain of thinking that her earrings belonged, in beauty's right, to Rose! It was a relief.
As to Mr. Perlman, his mouth and eyes opened wide without having the power, apparently, to shut again.
"Good-bye," said Rose, with a sad half-smile and, was gone. They never saw her again.
Frank Schlussel, who did not know that Rose had already left, emerged from the cloak-room, nervously adjusting his tie.
"I am sorry," he said, slipping the money into his pocket, "but I have to leave you."
"What-a-at?" roared Mr. Perlman, who had not yet recovered from his first shock.
"As my heart told me!" thought Mrs. Perlman. Why then had she suffered the humiliation of apologizing? She gave him a venomous look.
"But where is my week's warning, eh?" asked 'Mr'. Perlman, feebly.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Perlman," smiled Schlussel in a melancholy way, "but I can't spare it now, you see. Good-bye!" He raised his hat slightly and left the store.
"Good riddance!" Mrs. Perlman hurled after him.
During the latter part of this scene a customer had entered. He smiled as he looked down at the glass case.
"If I had only known before that he and she were leaving by agreement," added Mrs. Perlman fretfully, "I would not have let her go lightly!"
"Sh!" cautioned her spouse.
Mrs. Perlman, however, still pondered over the fallacy of being of too indulgent a disposition. Nevertheless, when Rosenkrantz came back with her fan, she thanked him in words and with a pronounced smile. The latter, however, had the effect, somehow, of making him look cross.
The customer went away, and Mr. Perlman handed Rosenkrantz his earnings. On account of the heat, the latter had his
straw hat in his hand. One could see the troubled forehead of the young man, the knit eyebrows, the depressed glance of his eyes.
"What do you think, Mr. Rosenkrantz," said Mrs. Perlman, nervously, but very amicably, "you are our only stand-by now! And I was just thinking, you've been with us so long and have been so faithful to us. we ought to raise your pay!—the old are the best, say I."
Rosenkrantz opened his eyes wide. "I don't understand," he said, at last.
"Well, Miss Summerman, just left us and then—"
His hat dropped from his hand to the floor. Before he could stoop to pick it up his face had become haggard.
"Miss Summerman—left—" he repeated, faltering.
"Yes," said Mrs. Perlman, smiling cheerfully. "and Schlussel, too!—they both left!" His head fell.
"Yes! And now we are going to raise your pay and make you our most trusted salesman! Mr. Perlman and I think we ought to get at least three others. So you will be at their head—a sort of storemanager, you see!"
There was a sort of hopeless, weary expression on his face, not good to see on those who are young and have, supposedly, all the world before them. He glanced vacantly from side to side. "I guess," he said, "you had better get someone else. I— I don't think I can work—here—any more." He walked lifelessly to the door, paused to give them one expressionless look, and departed.
Mr. and Mrs. Perlman remained staring at each other in consternation.
If the Jewish National Fund, which the Zionists take such pride in augmenting, be the index to Zionist activity in various countries, then the followers ef the Basle programme residing in this land of the Stars and Stripes may congratulate themselves. For the nine months ending with the 30th of September the American Zionists contributed nearly 63,000 marks to this fund, an increase over the corresponding period in 1910 of not quite 100 per cent. This shows that the local adherents of the Berlin smaller actions-committee are making every effort to further the cause of Palestinian development.—Hebrew Standard. \