When Chashke came home that evening he at once related the proposed match to her and asked her advice.
Chashke turned pale and then red.
“Oh, what a terrible headache I have to-day!” she answered, with a quiver in her voice.
Drabkin believed her headache. So did her mother.
“Probably choked with bad air,” murmured the old woman. “Over in her shop they’re all afraid they’ll freeze. Destruction seize them! I’ll take the hot water out of the oven and you’ll bathe your head and feel better.”
In this way she poured out her heart upon the heads of Chashke’s employers. For her heart was sorely embittered: all along she had looked upon Drabkin as her Chashke’s future husband.
Chashke was silent. Drabkin looked at her, waiting for a reply.
“Perhaps you know this Chyenke?” he began anew. “They say she’s a splendid girl.”
“What should I know? It looks like a good proposition. Five hundred roubles. And Chyenke, from what I know of her, is really a splendid girl. Good luck to you!”
Yet at the last words her voice trembled.