The Sentinel, v.045 no. 08, 1922

              I guess you all remember me: I'm the social
worker who did so much for that poor old
woman who came crying around the office
where I used to work before I got married.
She said she was starving and a lot of other
things, but it turned out she was just begging
to get enough money to go to the movies with.
My family thought it was awful funny and
teased me a lot about her. I don't know why.
Dealing with that class of people, you're just
bound to make mistakes once in a while. I
guess if Jane Addams owned up to it, people
have imposed on her, too, sometimes.
Of course, I haven't done, any regular social
work since I married. I believe a woman's place
is in the home and you shouldn't take on any
outside obligations. After I've made out the
week's menus and told Minnie how to make a
pudding or something-I had a grand course
in domestic science in school and know all
about cooking, and if I only had the time I'd
get rid of Minnie tomorrow and do all my
own housework-or helped her with the dust-ing
or washed out a few pieces I don't dare
trust to the laundry. I'm honestly too tired
to go to my bridge club. Minnie's always im-posing
on me and expecting me to help her
out when she falls behind in her work and I've.
just got to humor her. The maids are so in-dependent
nowadays they won't come and
work for you in an eight room apartment
unless you have two maids, and I don't know
what I'd do if Minnie left me. I understand all
about housework, but I'm not very strong, and
I know I'd get crazy if I was tied to -a stove
and a dish pan all day.
Anyhow, I need a little time to myself. I
never did see what some of those poor slum
mothers did with all their own washing to do
and entirely too many children. I know I'd
go crazy if I had to look after a baby; I'm
going to have a trained nurse for mine and just
come in once or twice a day to see it and tell
it a story or something like that. But I love
little, babies and think they're too sweet for
anything splashing in their bathtubs. Only
Jake-he's my husband-says we just can't
afford a baby and a new car all in one year,
so I try to be satisfied. You ought to see my
new little electric, all lined with grey velvet
and a crystal vase for flowers and everything.
I think it's awful for people to be extravagant
just now with all those horrid Russians starv-ing
and everybody out of work; but I just had
to get that car, especally after I was pnt on
the Sisterhood Visiting Committee to run all
over New York and look after our delinquent
girls.
I don't mean the girls were exactly delin-quent-
we just expected them to be. They left
school too early, and after they started to
work, they wouldn 't listen to their parents any
more and went out every night to the movies
and spent all their wages on silk stockings and
foolish things like that. I'm awfully busy, but
I'm too good-hearted and I said I'd just steal
the time and look after one delinquent girl,
anyhow!
I didn't expect any thanks for all the sacri-fices
I was making, but I never thought poor
Becky would be so ungrateful. She was an
awful pretty little thing even if she didn't
have any taste in dressing and made-up her
face perfectly dreadful. I'm not a bit old-fashioned:
I say a woman with all my worries
and social duties just has to put on a little to
keep from looking pale and haggard when she
L gets run down. But Becky didn't know how to
get away with it. And when I spoke to her
about it just like a mother and advised her
what kind of rouge to get, she showed she
didn't like it. I don't blame her for not listen-ing
to her own mother who can't even speak
English, but she should have known that I was
advising her for her own good.
Becky's mother was terribly worried about
her. Becky was going with a shegetz, her
mother told me when I went there the first
time, and she was so afraid they were going
to get married. He was a nice boy and every-thing
and made a fair salary, but Becky's
mother took on awfully; she said she'd rather
be in her grave than see Becky marry out of
her religion. You know how those ignorant
people take on!
But I agreed with her just the same. I think
people ought to have the same religion when
they're married and not be quarreling about
what church they're going to and calling each
other names. I know Jake and I have enough
other things to fight over and we were both
brought up good Jews, though you'd never get
him to go to Temple Sunday morning if you
stood on your head, even if he didn't run out
to his golf club. I just won't go with him ;
I hate golf and tennis, 'cause you get all hot
and messy for nothing and it takes so much
valuable time. I don't believe much in athletics
for women-I think it makes them unwomanly.
I told Becky's mother I'd fix it up for Becky.
So I took a real interest in the girl and invited
her to dinner that I could study her carefully
and lay my plans accordingly. That'smmy
method. I don't believe in doing what most
social workers do-have a remedy for every
case and when things go wrong consult your
note book and treat people as if they were all
made alike. So I made a real study of Becky
and tried to draw her out. I showed her all
my new winter dresses, 'cause I knew she was
crazy about clothes, and played. all my latest
jazz records on the victrola, and showed her
the snapshots we took down in Bermuda on
our honeymoon. But she was awfully nasty all
the time. She said it made her sick to see
women like me dressing up like the Queen of
Sheba just because we had rich husbands, while
girls like her had to work their hands off to
get a few cheap clothes; and she turned off the
the Victrola because when Jake started to fox
trot with her I told him to stop account of the
people below us, and Becky said it wasn't no
fun listening to music if you had to sit still.
And she wouldn 't look -at my snap shots and
everybody says they're just wonderful; she
said the Travel Films at the movies always
gave her the Willies-that was her very ex-pression.
I knew I 'd have a dreadful time
teaching her a little refinement.
My real troubles began when I tried to be
nice to her young man, as she called him. I
decided I ought to meet him and talk it all
over with him, what dreadful things might
happen if two people marry and can't decide
what church to go to and where to send their
children to Sunday school. I believe in looking
ahead and considering such things, but most
young people don't nowadays. Mamma always
said I was too serious and old for my age!
I thought Becky's young man would be a'
sort of shoe clerk type-you know, the kind I-mean,
with stiff manners and awful clothes
and terrible collars. But he wasn't. He was
awfully handsome, for one thing, just like a
movie hero is supposed to look but doesn't half
the time. And he was an awfully interesting
conversationalist; my husband isn't-he just
grunts "Yes" and "No" all through dinner
when I tell him how snippish the maid's been
acting or how the butcher keeps overcharging
me. Fifty cents for two little lamb chops-it's
an outrage!
Harry-that was his name-was a fine boy
and I really enjoyed drawing him out through
dinner. He'd been in France and it was real
exciting to hear all about his adventures over
there. He said he hadn't tasted such fish sauce
since he came back because most Americans
can't cook properly, especially sauces. (I al-ways
say it pays to have a good cook.) And
that with my hair and my quick, bright'way of
saying things, I looked more French than Jew-ish.
He had nice eyes and he certainly used
them right; not exactly flirting, you under-stand,
but sort of intimate. My husband kept
on grunting and eating, but Becky started
pouting just like a school girl. Even if she was
jealous she should have had better manners
than to show it. But it's hard teaching that
sort of person any refinement.
After dinner I put a jazz record on and
showed Harry some of the new steps. It was
great to dance, with him, because he was so
sort of sympathetic, if you know what I mean.
I hate to dance with a man who makes a job
of it like myahusband does, and wipes his face
afterwards and says, "Well, that's over."
Harry showed he enjoyed it just as much as
I did, and when I asked him whether he wasn't
tired of dancing with an old married woman
and didn't he want to dance with Becky, he
said, "Not on your life!" Those were his very
words. You couldn't expect me to. force him
to dance with her, could you? And as long as
he was my company, I had to do my best to
entertain him, didn't I?
We were so busy dancing and looking over
my snapshots I took on my honeymoon-and
Harry just raved over 'em, too-that I didn't
have a serious word about the young people's
engagement. But I got Harry's telephone num-ber
and the next day I called him up and
asked him to come over to dinner again as
soon as he could. I didn't invite Becky this
time because I wanted to have a serious talk
with him and I couldn't be at my best with
that girl sitting around glaring at me. I can't
imagine why she was so hateful all of a sudden.
Well, we had a lovely dinner, even if my
husband didn't say a word except to ask for
more chicken; and afterwards he went to sleep
in his chair in the living room as usual while
Harry and I tried some new records. I tried
to talk seriously to the boy then, but he
wouldn't let me. He said he didn't often meet
anybody who was as entertaining and lively
as I was-those were his very words-and it
was a shame to spoil a nice evening by dis-cussing
marriage. Anyhow he said, it was up
to Becky, and he didn't think she liked him
any more. It seems she was foolish enough to
get jealous just because I was nice to the
poor boy that night at dinner and tried to
give him back his ring and so on. Of course,
I pretended to feel sorry for Harry, but I
was tickled to death. Now they wouldn't get
married at all and I was keeping my promise
to Becky's poor mother and everything was
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