Then it was that she shook her umbrella at him and bade him hike. The
eternally feminine in her nature prompted self-preservation. She
banked on her reason—woman’s reason—not her intuition. She had started
first—her husband could only come on a later train.

“Go ’way and leave me alone,” she shouted in shrill falsetto. “You
have got yourself up to look like my Joe—and that idiotic grin on your
homely face is just like my Joe, but no city sharper can fool me, and
if you don’t go right along I’ll call for the perlice!”

She called for the police, and Uncle Joe had to show a strawberry-mark
to prove his identity, before he received recognition.




-------------------------------------

To be your brother’s keeper is beautiful if you do
not cease to be his friend.


BILLY AND THE BOOK


One day last Winter in New York I attended a police court on a side
street, just off lower Broadway. I was waiting to see my old friend
Rosenfeld in the Equitable Life Building, but as his office didn’t
open up until nine o’clock, I put in my time at the police court.