Soon one neighbor came in with a cup of hot coffee; another brought bread and herring with onion over it.
Tense, breathless, with suppressed curiosity quivering on their lips, they waited till Hanneh Hayyeh swallowed the coffee and ate enough to regain a little strength.
“Nu? What became in the court?”
“What said the judge?”
“Did they let you talk yourself out like you said you would?”
“Was the murderer there to say something?”
Hanneh Hayyeh wagged her head and began talking to herself in a low, toneless voice as if continuing her inward thought. “The judge said the same as Mrs. Preston said: the landlord has the right to raise our rent or put us out.”
“Oi weh! If Hanneh Hayyeh with her fire in her mouth couldn’t get her rights, then where are we?”
“To whom should we go? Who more will talk for us now?”