“Well,” I said, “I don’t think my liberal attitude on the drink question affected the results of our deal in Wall Street. That investment would of turned out just as good whether I was a teetotaler or a lush.”
“Listen,” she says: “The next time you mention ancient history like that, I’ll make a little investment in a lawyer. But what’s the use of arguing? I and Kate has made up our mind to do things our own way with our own money, and today we’re going up on the Drive with a real estate man. We won’t pay no more than we can afford. All as we want is a place that’s good enough and big enough for Sis to entertain her gentleman callers in it, and she certainly can’t do that in this hotel.”
“Well,” I says, “all her gentleman callers that’s been around here in the last month, she could entertain them in one bunch in a telephone booth.”
“The reason she’s been let alone so far,” says the Mrs., “is because I won’t allow her to meet the kind of men that stays at hotels. You never know who they are.”
“Why not?” I said. “They’ve all got to register their name when they come in, which is more than you can say for people that lives in $100 apartments on Riverside Drive.”
Well, my arguments went so good that for the next three days the two gals was on a home-seekers’ excursion and I had to spend my time learning the eastern intercollegiate kelly pool rules up to Doyle’s. I win about seventy-five dollars.
When the ladies come home the first two nights they was all wore out and singing the landlord blues, but on the third afternoon they busted in all smiles.
“We’ve found one,” says Ella. “Six rooms, too.”
“Where at?” I asked her.
“Just where we wanted it,” she says. “On the Drive. And it fronts right on the Hudson.”
“No!” I said. “I thought they built them all facing the other way.”
“It almost seems,” said Katie, “like you could reach out and touch New Jersey.”
“It’s what you might call a near beer apartment,” I says.
“And it’s almost across the street from Grant’s Tomb,” says Ella.
“How many rooms has he got?” I says.
“We was pretty lucky,” said Ella. “The people that had it was forced to go south for the man’s health. He’s a kind of a cripple. And they decided to sublet it furnished. So we got a bargain.”
“Come on,” I says. “What price?”
“Well,” she says, “they don’t talk prices by the month in New York. They give you the price by the year. So it sounds a lot more than it really is. We got it for $4,000.”
“Sweet patootie!” I said. “That’s only half your income.”
“Well, what of it?” says Ella. “It won’t only be for about a year and it’s in the nicest kind of a neighborhood and we can’t meet nothing only the best kind of people. You know what I told you.”
And she give me a sly wink.
Well, it seems like they had signed up a year’s lease and paid a month’s rent in advance, so what was they left for me to say? All I done was make the remark that I didn’t see how we was going to come even close to a trial balance.
“Why not?” said Katie. “With our rent paid we can get along easy on $4,000 a year if we economize.”
“Yes,” I said. “You’ll economize just like the rest of the Riverside Drivers, with a couple of servants and a car and four or five new evening dresses a month. By the end of six months the bank’ll be figuring our account in marks.”
“What do you mean ‘our’ account?” says Ella.
“But speaking about a car,” said Katie, “do you suppose we could get a good one cheap?”
“Certainly,” I said. “They’re giving away the good ones for four double coupons.”
“But I mean an inexpensive one,” says Kate.
“You can’t live on the River and ride in a flivver,” I said. “Besides, the buses limp right by the door.”
“Oh, I love the buses!” said Ella.
“Wait till you see the place,” says Katie to me. “You’ll go simply wild! They’s a colored boy in uniform to open the door and they’s two elevators.”
“How high do we go?” I said.
“We’re on the sixth floor,” says Katie.
“I should think we could get that far in one elevator,” I says.
“What was it the real estate man told us?” said Ella. “Oh, yes, he said the sixth floor was the floor everybody tried to get on.”
“It’s a wonder he didn’t knock it,” I said.
Well, we was to have immediate possession, so the next morning we checked out of this joint and swooped up on the Drive. The colored boy, who I nicknamed George, helped us up with the wardrobe. Ella had the key and inside of fifteen minutes she’d found it.
We hadn’t no sooner than made our entrée into our new home when I knew what ailed the previous tenant. He’d crippled himself stumbling over the furniture. The living room was big enough to stage the high hurdles, and that’s what was in it, only they’d planted them every two feet apart. If a stew with the blind staggers had of walked in there in the dark, the folks on the floor below would of thought he’d knocked the head pin for a goal.
“Come across the room,” said Ella, “and look at the view.”
“I guess I can get there in four downs,” I said, “but you better have a substitute warming up.”
“Well,” she says, when I’d finally fell acrost the last white chalk mark, “what do you think of it?”
“It’s a damn pretty view,” I says, “but I’ve often seen the same view from the top of a bus for a thin dime.”
Well, they showed me over the whole joint and it did look OK, but not $4,000 worth. The best thing in the place was a half full bottle of rye in
