James Oppenheim

“ She drew up close and shrieked in his ear.
"The windows—the lights—Morris—each one is a home. It makes me lonesome—heartsick!"
He roared back:
"Earth's dying, Nell—I can feel the leaves being stripped from trees—everything's going to wreck. It's home-time—home-time," he yelled to make her hear. "This weather drives men home. It's the greatest time of the year!" ”

“ You know old Sinn, don't you—the organ-grinder? He and Tiffy?"
"Not," she cried sharply, "my old organ-grinders? The two old men who come around every Friday? The two I've known since I was that high?"
"That's the two!" said the Doctor.
"The poor old men!" cried Nell "I'm always so sorry for them—they always bow so—so like old gentlemen—and thank me for my nickel! Is he sick, Morris? she asked sharply.
"I don't know!" said the Doctor.
"The poor old man!" cried Nell vehemently. "Do you know, Morris, sometimes I think it's a crime to be happy while there are such people in the world. ”

“ If I could dream that in forty-six years from now she and I could sit like you two at the end of a table like this, and have about us our children and our grandchildren, all so radiantly happy, here, in a real home—do you know, there is nothing, nothing else I could ask! It would round out a human life! There is nothing on Earth so deeply human—so glorious—so full of—God! ”

“ I—I am the old organ-grinder—ah!" he exclaimed, with a sudden straightening up of pride, "but my sons—one has a delicatessen store—" he leaned and whispered in confidence, "he brought us all the good things to-night—and the other—he is a salesman. They are good boys!"
He scraped and bowed again, and was suddenly awkward and wanted to escape.
"But surely," cried Nell, "you don't have to be an—an——"
"Organ-grinder?" he whispered. He smiled his old smile upon her, and nodded bis head. "How you have grown," he murmured, "since you were five years old! Ah, but you have a fine husband! ”

“ A man gets used to anything, güte Doktor, and when he gets used to it, he does not want to give it up—even being sick, nicht wahr?"
The Doctor laughed.
"So," the old man shuffled and bowed again. "I went back, because, Doktor—" he put a hand on the Doctor's shoulder and looked at him with flawless pride, "I am an organ-grinder!"
The Doctor took a deep breath.
"That's fine!" he cried, "that's splendid!"
Old Mrs. Sinn came trudging up, smiling sweetly. She touched Nell on the arm. ”

“ She laughed gaily and jigged out of the room, He heard her singing wildly as she put on her coat and her hat and her torn gloves. She came out rosy with happiness.
"I love to go with my man!" she cried. ”

“ But I made money—much money—I send them to school—I give them a start—ach," he sighed, "it was once a good business—in the old times! The old times then when Jews were in it. You never hear of Yiddish organ-grinders now," He winked slyly. "The Jews are too smart: they would make money.
"So—your sons tried to make you stop?" asked Nell.
He seemed to awake from a revery.
"They? Yes, yes. Of course. And I stopped—one week! And then—" he suddenly tapped the Doctor on the shoulder, "I found out the dear God made me an organ-grinder. I could not stay home. The streets called me. ”