The Jungle
brows more and more as he read. This was not a deed of sale at all, so
far as he could see—it provided only for the renting of the property!
It was hard to tell, with all this strange legal jargon, words he had
never heard before; but was not this plain—“the party of the first part
hereby covenants and agrees to rent to the said party of the second
part!” And then again—“a monthly _rental_ of twelve dollars, for a
period of eight years and four months!” Then Szedvilas took off his
spectacles, and looked at the agent, and stammered a question.
The agent was most polite, and explained that that was the usual
formula; that it was always arranged that the property should be merely
rented. He kept trying to show them something in the next paragraph;
but Szedvilas could not get by the word “rental”—and when he translated
it to Teta Elzbieta, she too was thrown into a fright. They would not
own the home at all, then, for nearly nine years! The agent, with
infinite patience, began to explain again; but no explanation would do
now. Elzbieta had firmly fixed in her mind the last solemn warning of
Jurgis: “If there is anything wrong, do not give him the money, but go
out and get a lawyer.” It was an agonizing moment, but she sat in the
chair, her hands clenched like death, and made a fearful effort,
summoning all her powers, and gasped out her purpose.
Jokubas translated her words. She expected the agent to fly into a
passion, but he was, to her bewilderment, as ever imperturbable; he
even offered to go and get a lawyer for her, but she declined this.
They went a long way, on purpose to find a man who would not be a
confederate. Then let any one imagine their dismay, when, after half an
hour, they came in with a lawyer, and heard him greet the agent by his
first name! They felt that all was lost; they sat like prisoners
summoned to hear the reading of their death warrant. There was nothing
more that they could do—they were trapped! The lawyer read over the
deed, and when he had read it he informed Szedvilas that it was all
perfectly regular, that the deed was a blank deed such as was often
used in these sales. And was the price as agreed? the old man
asked—three hundred dollars down, and the balance at twelve dollars a
month, till the total of fifteen hundred dollars had been paid? Yes,
that was correct. And it was for the sale of such and such a house—the
house and lot and everything? Yes,—and the lawyer showed him where that
was all written. And it was all perfectly regular—there were no tricks
about it of any sort? They were poor people, and this was all they had
in the world, and if there was anything wrong they would be ruined. And
so Szedvilas went on, asking one trembling question after another,
while the eyes of the women folks were fixed upon him in mute agony.
They could not understand what he was saying, but they knew that upon
it their fate depended. And when at last he had questioned until there
was no more questioning to be done, and the time came for them to make
up their minds, and either close the bargain or reject it, it was all
that poor Teta Elzbieta could do to keep from bursting into tears.
Jokubas had asked her if she wished to sign; he had asked her twice—and
what could she say? How did she know if this lawyer were telling the
truth—that he was not in the conspiracy? And yet, how could she say
so—what excuse could she give? The eyes of every one in the room were
upon her, awaiting her decision; and at last, half blind with her
tears, she began fumbling in her jacket, where she had pinned the
precious money. And she brought it out and unwrapped it before the men.
All of this Ona sat watching, from a corner of the room, twisting her
hands together, meantime, in a fever of fright. Ona longed to cry out
and tell her stepmother to stop, that it was all a trap; but there
seemed to be something clutching her by the throat, and she could not
make a sound. And so Teta Elzbieta laid the money on the table, and the
agent picked it up and counted it, and then wrote them a receipt for it
and passed them the deed. Then he gave a sigh of satisfaction, and rose
and shook hands with them all, still as smooth and polite as at the
beginning. Ona had a dim recollection of the lawyer telling Szedvilas
that his charge was a dollar, which occasioned some debate, and more
agony; and then, after they had paid that, too, they went out into the
street, her stepmother clutching the deed in her hand. They were so
weak from fright that they could not walk, but had to sit down on the
way.
So they went home, with a deadly terror gnawing at their souls; and
that evening Jurgis came home and heard their story, and that was the
end. Jurgis was sure that they had been swindled, and were ruined; and
he tore his hair and cursed like a madman, swearing that he would kill
the agent that very night. In the end he seized the paper and rushed
out of the house, and all the way across the yards to Halsted Street.
He dragged Szedvilas out from his supper, and together they rushed to
consult another lawyer. When they entered his office the lawyer sprang
up, for Jurgis looked like a crazy person, with flying hair and
bloodshot eyes. His companion explained the situation, and the lawyer
took the paper and began to read it, while Jurgis stood clutching the
desk with knotted hands, trembling in every nerve.
Once or twice the lawyer looked up and asked a question of Szedvilas;
the other did not know a word that he was saying, but his eyes were
fixed upon the lawyer’s face, striving in an agony of dread to read his
mind. He saw the lawyer look up and laugh, and he gave a gasp; the man
said something to Szedvilas, and Jurgis turned upon his friend, his
heart almost stopping.
“Well?” he panted.
“He says it is all right,” said Szedvilas.
“All right!”
“Yes, he says it is just as it should be.” And Jurgis, in his relief,
sank down into a chair.
“Are you sure of it?” he gasped, and made Szedvilas translate question
after question. He could not hear it often enough; he could not ask
with enough variations. Yes, they had bought the house, they had really
bought it. It belonged to them, they had only to pay the money and it
would be all right. Then Jurgis covered his face with his hands, for
there were tears in his eyes, and he felt like a fool. But he had had
such a horrible fright; strong man as he was, it left him almost too
weak to stand up.
The lawyer explained that the rental was a form—the property was said
to be merely rented until the last payment had been made, the purpose
being to make it easier to turn the party out if he did not make the
payments. So long as they paid, however, they had nothing to fear, the
house was all theirs.
Jurgis was so grateful that he paid the half dollar the lawyer asked
without winking an eyelash, and then rushed home to tell the news to
the family. He found Ona in a faint and the babies screaming, and the
whole house in an uproar—for it had been believed by all that he had
gone to murder the agent. It was hours before the excitement could be
calmed; and all through that cruel night Jurgis would wake up now and
then and hear Ona and her stepmother in the next room, sobbing softly
to themselves.
CHAPTER V
They had bought their home. It was hard for them to realize that the
wonderful house was theirs to move into whenever they chose. They spent
all their time thinking about it, and what they were going to put into
it. As their week with Aniele was up in three days, they lost no time
in getting ready. They had to make some shift to furnish it, and every
instant of their leisure was given to discussing this.
A person who had such a task before him would not need to look very far
in Packingtown—he had only to walk up the avenue and read the signs, or
get into a streetcar, to obtain full information as to pretty much
everything a human creature could need. It was quite touching, the zeal
of people to see that his health and happiness were provided for. Did
the person wish to smoke? There was a little discourse about cigars,
showing him exactly why the Thomas Jefferson Five-cent Perfecto was the
only cigar worthy of the name. Had he, on the other hand, smoked too
much? Here was a remedy for the smoking habit, twenty-five doses for a
quarter, and a cure absolutely guaranteed in ten doses. In innumerable
ways such as this, the traveler found that somebody had been busied to
make smooth his paths through the world, and to let him know what had
been done for him. In Packingtown the advertisements had a style all of
their own, adapted to the peculiar population. One would be tenderly
solicitous. “Is your wife pale?” it would inquire. “Is she discouraged,
does she drag herself about the house and find fault with everything?
Why do you not tell her to try Dr. Lanahan’s Life Preservers?” Another
would be jocular in tone, slapping you on the back, so to speak. “Don’t
be a chump!” it would exclaim. “Go and get the Goliath Bunion Cure.”
“Get a move on you!” would chime in another. “It’s easy, if you wear
the Eureka Two-fifty Shoe.”
Among these importunate signs was one that had caught the attention of
the family by its pictures. It showed two very pretty little birds
building themselves a home; and Marija had asked an acquaintance to
read it to her, and told them that it related to the furnishing of a
house. “Feather your nest,” it ran—and went on to say that it could
furnish all the necessary feathers for a four-room nest for the
ludicrously small sum of seventy-five dollars. The particularly
important thing about this offer was that only a small part of the
money need be had at once—the rest one might pay a few dollars every
month. Our friends had to have some furniture, there was no getting
away from that; but their little fund of money had sunk so low that
they could hardly get to sleep at night, and so they fled to this as
their deliverance. There was more agony and another paper for Elzbieta
to sign, and then one night when Jurgis came home, he was told the
breathless tidings that the furniture had arrived and was safely stowed
in the house: a parlor set of four pieces, a bedroom set of three
pieces, a dining room table and four chairs, a toilet set with
beautiful pink roses painted all over it, an assortment of crockery,
also with pink roses—and so on. One of the plates in the set had been
found broken when they unpacked it, and Ona was going to the store the
first thing in the morning to make them change it; also they had
promised three saucepans, and there had only two come, and did Jurgis
think that they were trying to cheat them?
The next day they went to the house; and when the men came from work
they ate a few hurried mouthfuls at Aniele’s, and then set to work at
the task of carrying their belongings to their new home. The distance
was in reality over two miles, but Jurgis made two trips that night,
each time with a huge pile of mattresses and bedding on his head, with
bundles of clothing and bags and things tied up inside. Anywhere else
in Chicago he would have stood a good chance of being arrested; but the
policemen in Packingtown were apparently used to these informal
movings, and contented themselves with a cursory examination now and
then. It was quite wonderful to see how fine the house looked, with all
the things in it, even by the dim light of a lamp: it was really home,
and almost as exciting as the placard had described it. Ona was fairly
dancing, and she and Cousin Marija took Jurgis by the arm and escorted
him from room to room, sitting in each chair by turns, and then
insisting that he should do the same. One chair squeaked with his great
weight, and they screamed with fright, and woke the baby and brought