Edna Ferber: Fanny Herself

16. CHAPTER SIXTEEN (continued)

Fanny laughed and took his hand, and held his hand up to her breast, and crushed it there. "And you look like an illustration out of the Fliegende Blaetter. It isn't only your clothes. Your face is German. As for Mizzi here--" she gathered the child in her arms again--"you've never explained that name to me. Why, by the way, Mizzi? Of all the names in the world."

Theodore smiled a wry little smile. "Mizzi is named after Olga's chum. You see, in Vienna every other--well, chorus girl I suppose you'd call them--is named Mizzi. Like all the Gladyses and Flossies here in America. Well, Olga's special friend Mizzi--"

"I see," said Fanny quietly. "Well, anything's better than Fanny. Always did make me think of an old white horse." And at that the small German person in her arms screwed her mouth into a fascinating bunch, and then unscrewed it and, having made these preparations said, "Tante Fanny. Shecago. Tante Fanny."

"Why, Mizzi Brandeis, you darling! Teddy, did you hear that! She said `Tante Fanny' and `Chicago' just as plainly!" "Did I hear it? Have I heard anything else for weeks?"

The plump person on the opposite seat, who had been shaking her head violently all this time here threatened to burst if not encouraged to speak. Fanny nodded to her. Whereupon the flood broke.

"Wunderbar, nicht war! Ich kuss' die handt, gnadiges Fraulein." She actually did it, to Fanny's consternation. "Ich hab' ihr das gelernt, Gnadige. Selbst. Ist es nicht ganz entzuckend! Tante Fanny. Auch Shecago."

Fanny nodded a number of times, first up and down, signifying assent, then sideways, signifying unbounded wonder and admiration. She made a gigantic effort to summon her forgotten German.

"Was ist Ihre Name?" she managed to ask.

"Otti."