Delmore Schwartz
THE GIFT
It was something special. Mother had said it was, Father
had said so too, and dear Vera too. It was an honor like the gold
paper stars the teacher gave for excellent deportment and 100%
in arithmetic.
Once before Toby had been sent downtown to Macy's depart–
ment store to return a package and get back the purchase price. And
he was very proud then, in the subway and the grownups had looked
at him: they must have known that he was being trusted to travel
by himself all the way downtown in the subway and back to bring
a purchase back to Macy's department store.
And once before, long ago, dear Vera the servant maid (who
came from Poland and wanted to go back to Poland as soon as she
had enough money for a husband and to buy a farm) had put him
on the train of the Long Island Railroad to the seashore where Grand–
ma lived in the summer when it was too hot. But he was not big
enough to be trusted because Vera spoke to the conductor who smiled
at him when he passed on the way to the seashore, picking up tickets,
clicking them.
This time was different and more important. He jingled his
coins in his pocket because someone might hear and know he had
money and was big enough to be trusted with silver, and brave
enough to travel by himself in the subway where it was always roar–
ing. He was going all the way to Brooklyn, the borough where he
was born so long ago he could not remember: Vera said that no
one ever was able to remember that, but she might be wrong. All
the way to Brooklyn, under the river into the tunnel where it was
like going up in the elevator in Father's office building which was
