“Na, Simon, when I see a thing I see it.  With Izzy out on his trip these next two months it won’t hurt us.  So crazy for Europe you know I ain’t, but when you got children you got to make sacrifice for them.”

“I—­”

“For ten weeks, Simon, you can stand it, and me too.”

“I—­”

“For ten weeks, Simon, if we go on that boat she wants that sails away on June twentieth—­it’s a fine boat, she says.”

“June twentieth I don’t go.  July twentieth I got to be back when my men go out on the road—­”

“Then shoot ’em over this month, pa.  Max can—­”

“There’s a boat two weeks from to-day, pa, see here in the booklet, the same boat, the Roumania, only on this month’s sailing.  We can get ready easy, papa, we—­oh, we can get ready easy.”

“Ach, Miriam, in two weeks how can we get together our things for a trip like that?”

“Easy, mamma, I tell you I—­I’ll do all the shopping and packing and everything.”

“’Sh-h-h-h, I ’ain’t promised yet.  I tell you if anybody would tell me two days ago to Europe I got to go this month, right away I wouldn’t have believed ’em!”

“Ach, Simon, you think yet it’s a pleasure for me?  You think for me it’s a pleasure to shut up my flat and leave it for two months?  You think it’s easy to leave Izzy, even when he’s ’way out West on his trip?  You think it’s easy to leave that boy with the whole ocean between?”

“Aw, ma, cut the comedy!”

“Ten times, Simon, I rather stay right here in my flat, but—­”

“Then right away on the whole thing I put down my foot.”

“Papa!”

“No, no, Simon, I want we should go.  Girls nowadays, Simon, got to be smart—­not in the kitchen, but in the head.”

“Be a sport, pa.”

“It’s enough I got a son what’s a sport.”

“Only a little over two months, papa.  Two weeks from to-day we can get a booking.  To-morrow I’ll go down to the steamship offices and fix it all up; I know all about it, papa; there isn’t a booklet I haven’t read.”

“Na, na, I—­”

“Simon, in all your life not one thing have you refused me.  In all my life, Simon, have I made on you one demand?  Answer me, Simon, eh?  Answer your wife.”  She placed her thimbled hand across his knee, peering through dim eyes up into his face.  “Eh, Simon, in thirty years?”

“Carrie-sha!  Carrie-sha!” He smiled at her through eyes dimmer still, then rose, waggling the bent forefinger.  “But not one day over ten weeks, so help me!”

“Papa!”

With a cry that broke on its highest note Miss Binswanger sprang to her feet, her arms clasping about her father’s neck.

“Oh, papa!  Papa!  Mamma!”

“’Sh-h-h-h! the door-bell!  Go to the door, Izzy; I guess maybe that’s Ray back or your friend.  Ach, such excitement!  Already I feel like we’re on the boat.”

“Oh, mamma, mamma!” Her words came too rapidly for coherence and her heart would dance against her breast.  “I—­I’m just as happy!” Kissing her mother once on each eye, she danced across to her brother, tagging him playfully.  “Lazy!  I’ll go to the door.  Lazy!  Lazy!  Tra-la-la, tra-la-la!” and danced to the door, flinging it wide.