Tell us about the gold plate--the
service. Begin with, 'There were over a hundred pieces and every one of
them gold.'"
"I don't know what you're talking about, Zerkow," answered Maria. "There
never was no gold plate, no gold service. I guess you must have dreamed
it."
Maria and the red-headed Polish Jew had been married about a month after
the McTeague's picnic which had ended in such lamentable fashion. Zerkow
had taken Maria home to his wretched hovel in the alley back of the
flat, and the flat had been obliged to get another maid of all work.
Time passed, a month, six months, a whole year went by. At length Maria
gave birth to a child, a wretched, sickly child, with not even strength
enough nor wits enough to cry. At the time of its birth Maria was out of
her mind, and continued in a state of dementia for nearly ten days. She
recovered just in time to make the arrangements for the baby's burial.
Neither Zerkow nor Maria was much affected by either the birth or the
death of this little child. Zerkow had welcomed it with pronounced
disfavor, since it had a mouth to be fed and wants to be provided for.
Maria was out of her head so much of the time that she could scarcely
remember how it looked when alive.
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