Still in her rollicking mood Hanneh Breineh picked up the baby and tossed it like a Bacchante. “Could you be happy a lot with ten cents in your stomach? Ten cents—half a can of condensed milk—then fill yourself the rest with water!… Maybe yet feed you with all water and save the ten-cent pieces to buy you a carriage like the Fifth Avenue babies!…”
The soft sound of a limousine purred through the area grating and two well-fed figures in seal-skin coats, led by the “friendly visitor,” appeared at the door.
“Mr. Bernstein, you can see for yourself.” The “friendly visitor” pointed to the table.
The merry group shrank back. It was as if a gust of icy wind had swept all the joy and laughter from the basement.
“You are charged with intent to deceive and obtain assistance by dishonest means,” said Mr. Bernstein.
“Dishonest?” Shmendrik paled.
Sophie’s throat strained with passionate protest, but no words came to her release.
“A friend—a friend”—stammered Shmendrik—“sent me the holiday eating.”
The superintendent of the Social Betterment Society faced him accusingly. “You told us that you had no friends when you applied to us for assistance.”
“My friend—he knew me in my better time.” Shmendrik flushed painfully. “I was once a scholar—respected. I wanted by this one friend to hold myself like I was.”