New York - The Novel

Mill Street, and Dirk Master indicated a building there.
    “That’s the synagogue,” he said, easily. “Not a bad building. They have two communities, you know: the Sephardics, who came here first from Brazil—rather gentlemanly; and the Ashkenazim, Germans—not gentlemen, but more of them. So they elect an Ashkenazi as president of the congregation, but the services are Sephardic. God knows if the Germans understand them. Funny really, don’t you think?”
    “I do not think a man’s religion is a laughing matter,” said the lawyer, quietly.
    “No. Of course. Wasn’t quite what I meant.”
    It might not have been. But the Boston man thought he detected in the merchant’s manner a hint of moral carelessness—confirmation that he’d been right to have reservations about that silk vest.
    They were about to part, when Dirk Master suddenly stopped, and pointed.
    “There he is,” he cried. And seeing Eliot look puzzled, he smiled. “That young devil,” he explained, “is my son.”
    The lawyer stared in horror.
    Eliot Master would never admit to having a favorite, but of his five children, he loved his daughter Kate the best. She had the most brains—though he thought it a pity they should be wasted on a girl. He liked his women to read and think, but only to the degree that would be considered appropriate. She also had a sweet nature, almost to a fault. At the age of five, she had been distressed by the poor folk she had seen in Boston. Well and good. But it had taken him three years of patient explaining tomake her understand there was a difference between the deserving and the undeserving poor.
    He was anxious, therefore, to find the right husband for Kate. A man intelligent, kind and firm. At one time, he had considered his respected neighbor’s son, young Samuel Adams, although the boy was a few years younger than Kate. But he had soon seen that there was a waywardness and lack of application in the boy that ruled him out. As Kate was now eighteen, her father was all the more careful that she should never be taken to any place where she might form an unfortunate attachment.
    Naturally, therefore, he had hesitated to bring her to New York, where the presence of these cousins, about whom he knew little, might add to the risk.
    But she had begged to come. She wanted to attend the trial, and she certainly understood the legal issues far better than the rest of his children. She would be safely with him all the time, and he had to admit he was always glad of her company. So he’d agreed.
    Before him, not fifty yards away, he now saw a tall fair-haired youth, accompanied by three common sailors, coming out of a tavern. He saw one of the sailors laugh, and slap the youth on the back. Far from objecting, the young man, who was wearing a shirt that was none too clean, made some cheerful jibe and laughed in turn. As he did so, he half turned, allowing the lawyer a clear sight of his face. He was handsome. He was more than handsome.
    He looked like a young Greek god.
    “Your daughter must be about the same age,” the merchant said cheerfully. “I expect they’ll get on. We’ll expect you for dinner then, at three.”

    Kate Master looked at herself in the glass. Some of the girls she knew got little dressmaker’s dolls with the latest fashions from Paris and London. Her father would never have allowed such vanities in the house. But if she dressed more simply, she was still pleased with the result. Her figure was good. Her breasts were pretty—not that anyone would see them, because a lace modesty piece covered all but the tops. The material of her bodice and skirt was a russet silk, worn over a creamy chemise, that suited her coloring. Her brown hair was arranged simply and naturally; her shoes had heels, but not too high, and round toes, because her father did notapprove of the new pointed shoes that were the latest fashion. Kate had a fresh complexion; and she’d used powder so lightly, she didn’t think her father would notice.
    She wanted to look well for these New York cousins. She wondered if there would be any young men of her age.

    When they arrived at the house in the fashionable South Ward near the old fort, Kate and her father were both impressed. The house was handsome. Above a basement were two floors, five bays across, simple and classical. A gentleman’s house. As they went in, they noticed a big oak cupboard in the hall, obviously Dutch, and two upright chairs from the time of