Official.  Er hat Typhus.

Mother. [Shaking her head] ‘Nein, nein, nein’!

American. [Looking through his glasses] Guess she’s kind of right!  I judge the typhus is where the baby’ slobbered on the shawl, and it’s come off on him.

     [The Dutch youth laughs.]

Official. [Turning on him furiously] Er hat Typhus.

American.  Now, that’s where you slop over.  Come right here.

     [The official mounts, and looks through the glasses.]

American. [To the little man] Skin out the baby’s leg.  If we don’t locate spots on that, it’ll be good enough for me.

     [The little man fumbles Out the baby’s little white foot.]

Mother.  Mei’ Bubi! [She tries to break away.]

American.  White as a banana. [To the official—­affably] Guess you’ve made kind of a fool of us with your old typhus.

Official.  Lass die Frau!

     [The policeman lets her go, and she rushes to her baby.]

Mother.  Mei’ Bubi!

     [The baby, exchanging the warmth of the little man for the
     momentary chill of its mother, wails.]

Official. [Descending and beckoning to the policeman] ’Sie wollen den Herrn accusiren’?

     [The policeman takes the little MAN’s arm.]

American.  What’s that?  They goin’ to pitch him after all?

[The mother, still hugging her baby, who has stopped crying, gazes at the little man, who sits dazedly looking up.  Suddenly she drops on her knees, and with her free hand lifts his booted foot and kisses it.]

American. [Waving his hat] Ra!  Ra! [He descends swiftly, goes up to the little man, whose arm the policeman has dropped, and takes his hand] Brother; I am proud to know you.  This is one of the greatest moments I have ever experienced. [Displaying the little man to the assembled company] I think I sense the situation when I say that we all esteem it an honour to breathe the rather inferior atmosphere of this station here Along with our little friend.  I guess we shall all go home and treasure the memory of his face as the whitest thing in our museum of recollections.  And perhaps this good woman will also go home and wash the face of our little brother here.  I am inspired with a new faith in mankind.  Ladies and gentlemen, I wish to present to you a sure-enough saint—­only wants a halo, to be transfigured. [To the little man] Stand right up.