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The Magic Cape
by
“And what you think?” Becky had sadly added; “she says like that all times on my mamma, out of Jewish, she says: ‘Why don’t you never come over for see me?’ Und my mamma, she says all times, mit more tears in the eyes–bend down your head, Teacher. I likes I shall whisper mit you in your ear–she couldn’t come the whiles she ain’t got nothing she could wear on the block. My papa has fierce feelings over it. He says like that, his sister–that’s my aunt–is awful nosy.”
Teacher often pondered as to whether it were possible, or even desirable, to provide the means to more frequent intercourse between the two families. She knew that this would mean shopping; that any article of her own apparel, or that of any of her friends, would be inadequate to enshroud the matronly form of Becky’s mother, for years of confinement to the house, years of sedentary occupation, and years of ill-considered and ill-adapted diet had co-operated to produce almost geographical outlines in Mrs. Zabrowsky. Mountains, valleys, promontories, and plains seemed the terms most suitable to describe her, and she looked about as movable as these natural formations. Teacher thought of waiting until Christmas time, and of then doing something anonymously. Meanwhile the episode of the cape occurred, and some weeks later Becky reported with triumph:
“Teacher, what you think?” this was always her opening phrase; “my stylish aunt by Cherry Street, she goes and has a party, und my papa he goes on the party, und my mamma, she goes by my papa’s side.”
“Then she bought a shawl,” cried Teacher. “I am ever and ever so glad.”
Becky shook her head.
“No, ma’am, she don’t needs she shall buy no shawl. She puts her on mit mine blue from-plush cape.”
A vision of Becky’s mother rose before Teacher’s eyes, flanked by another of the tiny cape, and she laughed.
“But that is impossible, my dear. She couldn’t.”
“Teacher, she does.”
“But, Becky,” cried Teacher, “how could she? You know that the cape is too small for me, and it is only the right size for you, and you know your mamma is twice as big as both of us. So how could she wear it, dear? It never could have hooked up the front.”
“No, ma’am, it didn’t hook,” Becky admitted. “My mamma’s back needs the most of it, und in front it don’t fits very good, only that makes mit my mamma nothings. She goes on my nosy auntie’s party mit proud feelings, the while she knows how her back is stylish. Und in the front where the cape don’t goes, my mamma, she wears my little sister.”
“What!” gasped my friend. “What did you say she wore in the front?”
“She wears the baby,” Becky repeated. “Und my nosy auntie’s awful fresh. She says like that on my mamma: ‘Don’t you likes you shall lay the baby down by the bed?’ She says like that, the while she knows my mamma ain’t got capes only in back, und she wants my mamma shall have shamed feelings before all the peoples what is on the party. Und my mamma, she says like that, just as smart, she says: ‘No, I guess I don’t likes I shall lay my baby on no strange beds. It ain’t healthy, maybe.’ And she holds the baby, and nobody knows how the front from that cape is, und my mamma enjoyed a pleasant time, and my papa had a proud.”