1078
PARTISAN REVIEW
not what she taught, but on the order of object-lessons. She didn't
have much to teach, poor woman. My brothers and I loved her. I
speak for them both; for the elder it is safe enough; for the younger
one, Georgie, I have to answer-he was born an idiot-but I'm in no
need to guess, for he had a song he sang as he ran drag-footed with
his
stiff idiot's trot, up and down along the curl-wired fence in the
backyard
Georgie Mahchy, Augie, Simey
Winnie Mahchy, evwy,evwy love mama.
He was right about everyone save Winnie, Grandma Lausch's poodle,
a pursy old overfed poodle. Mama was her servant, as she wail
Grandma Lausch's. Loud-breathing .and windbreaking, she lay near
the old lady's stool on a cushion embroidered with a Berber, a rifle,
and a Numidian lion yawning with rage at the Berber's rifle. She was
personally grandma's, belonged to her suite; the rest of us were the
governed, and especially mama. Mama passed the dog's dish to Grand–
ma, and Winnie received her food at the old lady's feet from the old
lady's hands. These hands .and feet were small; she wore a shrivelleCl
sort of lisle on her legs and her slippers were gray-ah, the gray of
that felt, the gray despotic to souls-with pink ribbons. Mama, how–
ever, had large feet and, around the house she wore men's shoes, usual–
ly without strings, and a dusting or mobcap like somebody's fanciful
cotton effigy of the form of the brain. She was meek and long, round–
eyed like Danny-gentle green round eyes and a gentle freshness . of
color in her long face. Her hands were work-reddened, she had very
few of her teeth left-to heed the knocks as they come-and she and
Simon wore the same ravelly coat-sweaters. Besides having round
eyes, Mama had circular glasses that I went with her to the free
dispensary on Harrison Street to get. Coached by Grandma Lausch, I
went to do the lying. Now I know it wasn't so necessary to lie, but
then everyone thought so, and Grandma Lausch especially, who was
one of those MachiaveIlis of small street and neighborhood that my
young years were full of. So Grandma, who had it all ready before
we left the house and must have put in hours laying it out in thought
and phrase, lying small in her chilly small room under the feather–
bed, gave it to me at breakfast. The idea was that Mama wasn't keen
enough to do it right. That maybe one didn't need to be keen didn't
