THE FIRST SEVEN YEARS
663
dimly-lit hallway, "I watched you
in
the morning go to the subway
to school, and I said always to myself, this is a fine boy that he
wants so much an education."
"Thanks," said Max, nervously alert. He was tall and grotesquely
thin, with sharply cut features, particularly a beak-like nose. He was
wearing a loose, long, slushy overcoat that came down to his ankles,
looking like a rug draped oved his bony shoulders, and a wet, old
brown hat, as battered as the shoes he had brought in.
"I am a business man," the shoemaker abruptly said to conceal
his embarrassment, "so I will explain you right away why I talk
to you. I have a girl, my daughter Miriam-she is nineteen-a very
nice
girl
and also so pretty that everybody looks on her when she
passes by in the street. She is smart, always with a book, and I though[
to myself that a boy like you, an educated boy-I thought maybe you
will be interested sometime to meet a girl like this." He laughed a
bit when he finished .and was tempted to say more but had the good
~ense
not to.
Max stared down like a hawk. For an uncomfortable second
he was silent, then he asked, "Did you say nineteen?"
"Yes."
"Would it be all right to inquire if you have a picture of her?"
"Just a minute." The shoemaker went into the store and hastily
returned with a snapshot that Max held close to the light.
"She's okay," he said.
Feld waited.
"And is she sensible-not the flighty type?"
"She is very sensible."
Mter another pause, Max said it was all right with him if he
met her.
"Here is my telephone," said the shoemaker, hurriedly handing
him a slip of paper. "Call her up. She comes home from work six
o'clock."
Max folded the paper and tucked it away into his worn leather
wallet.
"About the shoes," he said. "How much did you say they will
cost me?"
"Don't worry about the price."
"I just like to have an idea."
