"Who's your friend?" she asked.
"Her name's Miss Train."
"Oh. It's a woman, is it?" Rosa sneered.
Yetta flushed angrily but held her tongue, and when she had gathered together her meagre belongings, she looked once more about the dismal bedroom and came out into the kitchen where Mrs. Goldstein was sitting in silence, sewing away at a frayed underskirt of Rosa's.
A sudden tenderness came to Yetta for this hard old woman who had mistreated her.
"Good-by, Aunt Martha," she said.
For a moment she stitched on without apparently noticing her niece's presence. And then she spoke to Rosa.
"It isn't so bad," she said, "as when Rachel went. She was my own daughter."
"But I'm not going where Rachel did," Yetta protested. The old woman did not reply.