Gottlieb promptly changed the subject by explaining to him how badly they needed more money in their business. Shadrach listened patiently for a while, then said:
“I am tired after my long journey. I do not understand this business that you are talking about. But you may have whatever money you need. After all, I have no one but you two.” He looked at them fondly. Then his glance fell upon the serving-woman, and he added, quickly:
“And Marta.”
“Thank God,” said Gottlieb, when their father had retired, “he does not intend to be stingy.”
“Oh, he is all right,” answered Abel. “After he gets used to things he will become Americanised like us.”
To their chagrin, however, they began to realise, after a few months, that their father was clinging to the habits and customs of his old life with a tenacity that filled them with despair. The more they urged him to abandon his ways the more eager he seemed to become to cling to them. He seemed to take no interest in their business affairs, but he responded, almost cheerfully, to all their requests for money. He began to feel that this, after all, was the only bond between him and his sons. And when they had pocketed the money, they would shake their heads and sigh.
“Ah, father, if you would only not insist upon being so old-fashioned!” Abel would say.
“And let us fix you up a bit,” Gottlieb would chime in.
“And become more progressive—like the other men of your age in this country.”
“And wear your beard shorter and trimmed differently.”