Erna was in a splendid mood when she called on Nielsen that evening. In
the first place, the young Norwegian-American had earned her gratitude.
Secondly, and what is perhaps more important, Jimmy Allen had come into
Landsmann's both for the noon and the evening meal and had paid her
humble devotion. She had agreed to spend to-morrow evening with him, but
principally that she might add coal to the fire of his impatience by
putting off her answer, which she had not formed as yet but in the
existence of which she had succeeded in leading him to believe. Thirdly,
she had had two more tilts with Landsmann and was victorious in both.
Consequently, Erna was in high spirit. In addition, her greedy nature
was looking forward to the new sensation that life might be on the point
of offering her in Nielsen.
It was evident at once that he was likewise in the best of humor. His
greeting of Erna was of the heartiest cordiality and cheer. And he
required only a minute or two to settle her comfortably on the couch and
to make her feel otherwise at home. She was not surprised. On the
contrary, she entered immediately into the mood of the young writer's
hospitality.
"Well, Rat-wife, how've you been?" he commenced. "I haven't seen you
since this morning."
"Why do you call me Rat-wife?"
"Because you're a professional rat catcher."
"I've caught rats before," she confessed.
"Have you? Great! I always thought you must have had another vocation in
life."
"But I hate caterpillars, don't you?" she declared naïvely.
"By all means," he agreed. "They give one the fuzzy-wuzzies, don't
they?"
They both laughed. He drew his chair closer to the couch and watched her
frankly. She watched him with equal candor. There was honest admiration
in his next remark: "You're strong, aren't you, Erna?"
"Yes."
"How'd you get that way?" he pursued.
"I must 'a' been born that way. I guess my father an' mother were strong
an' healthy. Any way, I exercise a great deal--"
"In the store, you mean?"
"No, at night, by the open window, in--"
"Not in the nude?" he ventured.
"Not quite, but almost!" she admitted, and they laughed again.
"But Erna, what made you say you _guess_ your father and mother were
strong? Don't you know whether they were? Aren't they alive?"
She looked at him suddenly, but his straightforward glance reassured
her. She announced quietly: "I never saw my parents."
"What?" he broke out. "Then how--but I beg your pardon, child. I didn't
mean to be inquisitive."
"You're not inquisitive," she returned with unaccustomed seriousness.
"Only--"
"I understand," he interrupted. "Don't speak of it! It's too painful.
Besides, we mustn't be growing gloomy."
Erna was meditative. She had never confided that part of her life to any
one. It might be nice to unburden some of it. And Mr. Nielsen--he was
so--She glanced at him.
"Please don't!" he requested. "I'd much rather you wouldn't."