Chapter XIX

"Madame Haupt, Hebamme", ran a sign, swinging
from a second-story window over a saloon on the avenue;
at a side door was another sign, with a hand pointing up
a dingy flight of steps. Jurgis went up them, three at a
time.

Madame Haupt was frying pork and onions, and had
her door half open to let out the smoke. When he tried
to knock upon it, it swung open the rest of the way, and
he had a glimpse of her, with a black bottle turned up to
her lips. Then he knocked louder, and she started and put
it away. She was a Dutch woman, enormously fat -- when
she walked she rolled like a small boat on the ocean, and
the dishes in the cupboard jostled each other. She wore
a filthy blue wrapper, and her teeth were black.

"Vot is it?" she said, when she saw Jurgis.

He had run like mad all the way and was so out of breath
he could hardly speak. His hair was disordered and his
eyes wild -- he looked like a man that had risen from the
tomb. "My wife!" he panted. "Come quickly!"

Madame Haupt set the frying pan to one side and wiped
her hands on her wrapper. "You vant me to come for a
case?" she inquired.

"Yes," gasped Jurgis.

"I haf yust come back from a case," she said. "I haf
had no time to eat my dinner. Still -- if it is so bad--"

"Yes -- it is!" cried he.

"Vell, den, perhaps -- vot you pay?"

"I -- I -- how much do you want?" Jurgis stammered.

"Tventy-five dollars."

His face fell. "I can't pay that," he said.

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v?