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Shortly after the incident of the valentine Mr. Diamantstein came to Room 18 in radiant array. His frock coat was new and of a wondrous fashion, his tan shoes were of superlative length and sharpness of toe, both his coat and vest were open to the lowest button and turned back to give due prominence to the bright blue shirt beneath. His hair shone in luxurious and oiled profusion, and in the collarless band of his shirt, a chaste diamond stud, not much larger than a butter-plate, flashed and shimmered through his curled black beard. It was luncheon lime, and Teacher was at liberty.

“Say, Missis Pailey,” he began, “what you think? I’m a loafer.”

“Did you give up your position?” asked Miss Bailey, “or did you lose it? You can easily get another, I hope.”

“You not understand,” cried the guest eagerly. “I was one great big loafer,” and he laid outstretched hands upon the blue bosom of his gala shirt; “one great big loafer man.”

“No, I’m afraid I don’t understand,” confessed Miss Bailey. “Tell me about it.”

“Vell, I was a vidder man,” Mr. Diamantstein explained. “Mine vife she die. From long she die, und I’m a vidder man. But now I marry, maybe, again. I ain’t no more a vidder man. I was a loafer on a beautiful yonge lady.”

“Oh! you’re a lover, Mr. Diamantstein. Why, that’s the best news I’ve heard for ages! And your new wife will take care of the boys. I am so glad!”

“She’s a beautiful yonge lady,” the Lothario continued; “but easy scared! Oh, awful easy scared! So I don’t tell her nothings over those devil boys.”

“Now, Mr. Diamantstein–” Teacher began admonishingly, but he interrupted.

“I tells her like this: ‘Say, ain’t it nice? I got three leetle poys–awful nice leetle poys–no one ain’t never seen no better leetle poys.’ Und she says she won’t marry mit me. Ain’t I tell you how she’s easy scared? But I tells her all times how my leetle poys is goot, how they makes for her the work, und the dinner, und the beds. Und now she says she will marry mit me und I’m a loafer on a beautiful yonge uptown lady.”

The wild gesticulations of Mr. Diamantstein during this account of his courtship and of its triumphant conclusion were wonderful to see. He stopped now, glowing and panting, and Teacher noticed, for the first time, that he was still a young man, and that there was some shadow of excuse for the reckless course of the “beautiful yonge uptown lady.”

“Mr. Diamantstein,” she said heartily, “I wish you joy. I’m sure you deserve it, and I hope the young lady will be as good as she is beautiful. Bring her to see me some day, won’t you?”

“Sure,” said Mr. Diamantstein politely.

But ah, for the plans of mice and men! and oh, for the slip and the lip! Within that very week the airy castle of Mr. Diamantstein’s hopes was shaken to its foundations. The cause was, of course, “them devil poys.” Julius and Nathan Diamantstein were convicted of having stolen and offered for sale books, pencils, and paper, the property of the Board of Education. Isidore had acted as agent and was condemned as an accomplice. The father was sent for and the trio were expelled.

Then deep was the grief of Miss Bailey, and wild was the wailing of Mr. Diamantstein. He tore his hair, he clung to the hem of Miss Bailey’s garment and he noted incidentally that it was of “all from wool goods,” he cast his cherished derby upon the floor and himself upon her protection.

“Say, Missis Pailey,” he implored, “you do me the favour? You go on the Brincipal und you say like that: ‘I give him five dollars, maybe, so he don’t egspell them devil poys.'”

“But he must,” Teacher answered sadly. “It is the law. They must be expelled. But oh, Mr. Diamantstein, won’t you try to take care of Isidore?”