The Children Read Free Page A

of the curb, his feet in the gutter, his head in the palm of one hand; with the other hand he stirred the murky water that ran beneath him. To Marie, he seemed aware of nothing at all—unless you would call the water that ran beneath him something. But why was he concentrating upon the water?
    Marie looked at the water—plain murky water. And she tossed her head. There was nothing there to look at. Yet Ishky took on a new attraction, simply because he was looking at the water.
    Marie stepped gingerly down to the sidewalk. Twice, she skipped; then she crossed the street. Then she walked in a circle about Ishky. Ishky’s face burned, but he stirred the water with the same intense concentration.
    â€œWhatcha got dere?” Marie demanded.
    â€œJus’ wader.”
    â€œWhaddya doin’ wid it?”
    â€œPlayin’.”
    â€œWhaddya playin’?”
    â€œJus’ playin’.”
    Marie sat down next to him. She knew he was a Jew. When you were very close to a Jew, you felt kind of funny about it, if you remembered he was a Jew. Anyway, all the Jews were funny, funnier than the micks.
    She looked at him. His shirt was dirty, and his shoes were full of holes. His toes stuck out. The Jews were very poor, but she knew they had money hidden away. Everybody said that they had money hidden away, only they never spent it. They kept it, and each night they counted their piles of gold. That was one of the queer things Jews did.
    â€œIt’s dirdy,” she said.
    â€œI know. No good tuh drink.”
    â€œC’n I play?”
    He turned around to look at her. He had brown eyes, curly hair, and a very thin face. But his face was flushed and red, and his mouth half open. And when she looked at his face, she thought of Ollie, though she didn’t know just why.
    â€œYuh wanna?”
    â€œWhaddya playin’?”
    â€œJus’ playin’. Y’wanna play?”
    â€œGimme yer stick.”
    He gave her the stick. She was so beautiful that he would have given her the world, had it been his; and he was happy. He was happy just to sit, lazy, in the sun, with her next to him.
    That was all he wanted. He could see how the sunlight sparkled on her hair.
    Then she threw the stick away—tossing it out into the gutter.
    â€œDat ain’ no good.”
    â€œYeah, I guess so.”
    She threw an arch sidewise glance at him. He wasn’t so much, but anyway she wasn’t afraid of him, like she was of Ollie. Only Ollie wouldn’t sit on the curb and do nothing at all. They said that a Jew could just think of being a Jew, and that was enough.
    â€œWhatsit like t’be a Jew?” she wanted to know.
    â€œI dunno.”
    â€œLike bein’ Christian?”
    â€œMaybe.”
    â€œC’mon over duh stoop,” she said.
    They walked over to the stoop, sitting down there again. Shyly, he reached to her hand, hesitated, and then took it. Warm and small, it rested inside of his, and she glanced at him, raising her upper lip.
    â€œYuh mustn’ do dat.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œIt’s bad.”
    â€œI don’ wanna be bad.”
    Calculatively, she looked at him, smiling just a little, her upper lip still raised over her gums. With a precise motion, she drew her dress down over her knees. She turned away; then she looked at him again.
    â€œIt’s like lookin’ at a nakid lady,” she said.
    â€œIt ain’.”
    â€œDincha never see one?”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œA nakid lady.”
    Ishky stared at her, at her yellow hair and her wonderful blue eyes.
    â€œWanna see one?”
    Ishky was running across the street. She stared at him, unbelievingly, and then she waved her arms over her head.
    â€œG’wan run, yuh dirdy Jew!”
    Y OU SEE , A that, was Marie, whom I loved then. Maybe I love her now, since that was not too long ago.
    But where is the summer day? Everything is gone—except that I am still Ishky;