This form of expression, however, did not disturb us much.  I sent three of my guests into the back yard to wash and arrange their hair.  They returned for inspection but didn’t pass, the hair refusing to comply on such short notice.  I put the finishing touches on each of their toilets and we sat down to supper.  The oldest boy, “Fritz,” was half past twelve and the youngest, “Ano,” had just struck ten.  Ano was a cripple and both legs were twisted out of shape—­he hobbled about on crutches.  “Jake” was eleven—­two of his eleven years he had spent in a reformatory where he had learned to chew tobacco and to swear.

“Eddy” was also eleven, but the oldest of all in point of wits.  I had a claim on Eddy:  one day he was amusing himself by jerking a cat at the end of a string, in and out of Frau Belgarde’s well.  She was stealthily approaching him with a piece of fence rail when I arrived and possibly prevented some broken bones.  “Kaiser” was nearly twelve; he too had been in a reform school—­he liked it and would have been glad to stay as long as they wanted him—­for he had three meals a day and he had never had such “luck” outside.  “Whitey” was a little Swedish boy whose mother worked in a cigar factory.  “Kaiser” and “Whitey” had a “dug-out” and they spent more nights together in it than they spent in their huts.

“Fritz,” the oldest boy, began his career in the open by stealing his father’s revolver; and, jumping on the first grocery wagon he found handy, he left town.  Of course he was brought back and “sent up” for a year.  “Franz,” the absent one, was Ano’s brother, and the toughest boy in the community.

These brief outlines describe the guests of my birthday party.

“When ye make a feast call the poor” was stretched a little to cover this aggregation—­stretched as to the character of those invited.  A blessing was asked, of course—­by the host and repeated by the guests.  Of things to eat there was enough and to spare.  After dinner each one was to contribute something to the entertainment.

“Beginning here on my left with ‘Whitey,’” I said, “I want each boy to tell us what he would like to be when he becomes a man.”  Whitey without hesitation said: 

“A organ-man wid a monkey.”

“Why?”

“’Cause.”

Eddy said he would like to be a butcher, and as a reason gave:  “Plenty ov beef to eat.”

“Kaiser” preferred to be a “Reformatory boss.”

“Ano,” the cripple, said he would like to be a minister.  When pressed for a reason he said, “That’s what m’ father says—­dey ain’t got notin’ to do!”

In the midst of this social quiz a loud noise was heard outside.  “Bang!  Bang!!  Bang!!!” The timbers of the hut shivered, the guests made a rush to the back door.  I was there first and found Franz, the missing guest, his arms smeared with blood, his ragged jacket covered with hair of some sort and in his hand a bloody stiletto.