Complete Story. For the First Edition.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXIV, Issue VI, 10 February 1900, Page 247

Complete Story. For the First Edition.

By

J. L. STEFFENS.

Itziz, the reporter’s boy, was lying sound asleep on the sofa iu the ottiee one morning. His day of work began at four o'clock, so when he did not go early to lied the night before he was apt to be sleepy by eight o’clock. It was eight o'clock now. The morning was dull, with no sign of news, so the city editor had no cause of complaint. But the sight of Itzig’s great, fat, moonlike face, so placid and so red, suggested an idea to him.

"Itzig!” he called, sharply. "Yes. sir. All right. Where's the fire?” The boy was on his feet, alert and eager.

"There is no fire, Itzig. There is nothing at all. That is why I call u|>on you. sir. You go down to the emigrant bureau and get me a story. A ship is in with two hundred Russian .lews aboard.”

The city editor turned to his desk. Itzig looked at him a moment, then asked: “Make or fake?”

"No fake, sir. Make a story, a good one, for the first edition.”

Itzig was soon on 'his way to the barge office, which is the reception place, at present, for the immigrants who land in New York. The officials all knew him, and he passed in with a noil and a “Good morning" through gate after gate, from one "pen" to another, gliding in and out among the crowd of immigrants from the ship which had come in overnight. There were men. women, and children in all sorts of odd, gay-coloured peasant costumes, but the general effect was anything but gay. It was most depressing.

These people, ignorant, poor, able to speak only some dialect of a tongue unspoken in this strange, new country, were waiting for they knew not what, to go they knew not where or how or when. All looked troubled, some were weeping. Itzig knew they would be cared for in time, so he turned away from group after group of tearful ]>eople. saying to himself that sad stories were bad stories, and he was ordered to get a good story. "Suppose I found a jolly immigrant!” he thought. “Wouldn't that be news ?”

He chuckled, and over the vale of tears he looked in search of a smiling face. Not one. He passed on among the peasants, seeking everywhere. Nor a smile could he see. “Oh. well,” he said, “I’ll take what I can get.” A laugh! He heard a laugh from the detention-i>en downstairs, and off be scurried in his chase of merriment. The peasants below were held for a close examination that day. They were the most frightened lot in the building, for they had seen their shipmade acquaintances passed into America, out through the front door, while they were sent back for reasons not told to them. But in the gloom of the dark, low room Itzig caught the face of the laugher. It. was a young man's, and it was still smiling as Itzig approached the group. The young man was a sort of peasant dandy, and not a very pleasant chap to look upon, for he looked bad. Itzig took a dislike to him at once. The other peasants evidently belli him in some awe, for their attitudes were deferential, and their attention was fixed upon him. Itzig saw, too, that he had his story, for on the young fellow's arm was a girl. She was a round, roly-poly maiden, witn large red cheeks, a weak but good-natured mouth, and eyes that showed she was good. Itzig liked her rather; and for that reason he disapproved of the match. That fellow ought not to have that girl. But he slipped along to a bench in the darkest corner, near by, anil listened. An east side Jew himself, Itzig understood most of what was said.

“He's a. soft one." sad the dandy. “He'll never make a fortune in America, and how can he support a pretty wife? lie needs a wife who will sup|x>rt him, so I'll just take his girl, and let him get one here who will take care of him."

The crowd ami led, the dandy laughed, tend although the girl hung her head, she seemed to agree. Itzig |>eered round through a. break in the circle, anil saw a plain young man sitting on a small trunk, with his face buried in his ha nils.

"So my story isn’t ull gay," thought Itzig.

"lliink of a fellow bringing a girl to America, and then leaving her alone on tlie ship!” the dandy was saying. “He was seasick," saiid the, girl, gently. “Well, would you marry a man who gets sick when you might lie drowning?” The girl hung her head again. “And what would you have done for company if 1 hadn't treated you to cakes, and American candy, and all the good things?” The girl said nothing. “Is that so?" asked Itzig, turning to the old ma.n next to him. “Did he treat the girl to good things when her lover lay sick?” “Yes. He spent money like water. He hail fifty roubles, and he spent all but five. Not on her alone, though. He treated everybody; most, of all himself; but next to himself he treated her the most.” “And did her lover know all aliout it?”

“Yes. but he couldn't help it. He was sick—oh. very sick, and the other people told him aliout it. But what could he do?”

“Who paid her passage out?” asked Itzig. “Her lover. He wants to get married now. and the other fellow won't let the girl go. She wants to. but thev all laugh at her. and she is liashful.”

Itzig walked off. “I've got half a story,” lie said to himself, “but it isn't, a. good story, because it ends bail. I must make a good ending, and I must make it for the first edition.” He hurried back through the throng, passing all the officials till he reached the office of the examining board. There were the commissioners reading the papers, talking to friends, or smoking in silence. They all looked up when Itzig entered, and he beckoned them to gather up around him. “Now shut the door, and shut it from the outside,” he said to the attendant. That was done, amd wha.t Itzig said to the. commissioners he never told. In a. few minutes, however, the bell rang, the attendant went in. and the board had come to order. “Bring up Numbers 13, 67, and 103,” said the chairman. The attendant disappeared, and when he came back he hail with him the peasant dandy, the girl, and the [xxir fellow who had lost her by seasick ness. “What’s your name?” asked the president of the girl. The interpreter gave the question in Yiddish. “Anna Mey erow itch,” she said, swallowing a big lump. “How old are you?” “Eighteen.” “Who [raid your passage?” She pointed to her bereaved lover. The chairman turned to him. “And you. what's your name?" “Benjamin Kladdisch.” “What did you bring the girl here for?” “To be my wife.” "Well, why don't you marry her, then ?” "This other man got her to love him.” “Did he? How do you know?" “He says so." “Wha.t does she say?” “Nothing." "Well, that isn’t the way we do in Ar.iericn. Why don't you ask her?" “She has a tongue, let her speak." The girl was about to speak, but the chairman stopped her with. “No. wait.” He turned to the dandy, who was not laughing now. He looked as frightened as the others. “What’s your nnme”” "I’incus Schlimmerwitz.” "What do you want with this other man's girl?” "Oh. I was just having a little fun." The girl glanced up al him. then drew away. "Well, did you have your fun?" "Yes, sir.” He was growing bolder now. "Did it cost you much money?" "Yes, sir.” "How much have you got left?" "Five rubles.” “Any friends or relatives in this country?”

"No, sir.” "Well, sir, five rubles are not enough money with which to laud. You'll have to go hack to Russia.” The dandy's hands dropped limp beside him. "How much have you got?" asked the president of Benjamin Kladdisch.” "One hundred rubles," answered Benjamin. "You didn't spend much on the shin?” "No, sir, 1 was sick.” "You may land.” The girl was the next one to be questioned by the president. "How much have you?” “None, but Benjamin—” "Yes. Benjamin has, but you love Pincus.” “No, no, I don't!” and the girl began to cry. “Well, you may go back with Pincus or stay with Benjamin. But if you stay with Benjamin, you must marry him now, and live ever after happily with him. Will you?” “Yes, sir.” And she and Benjamin fell into each other’s arms, the girl murmuring a plea for forgiveness. The rabbi was sent for, but Itzig could not wait. It was high time to be getting back for the first edition, anil he and Pincus Schlimmerwitz went out together, Itzig up Broadway, Pincus to the “return pen;” Itzig with a good story to tell, Pincus with a bad one.