"Mischna 4. The school of Shamai says 'Sweep the room, then wash your hands.' The school of Hillel says: 'Wash your hands, then sweep the room.'"
A double knock with the heavy book upon the rickety table reduced the scholars to silence once more.
The melamed's round and gleaming eyes wandered around the room as if in search of a victim. He pointed to one of the hindmost benches, and called out:
"Lejbele!"
A pale and slender child rose at the summons and fixed a pair of large, frightened eyes upon the teacher.
"Come here."
There was a great rustle among the boys, for it was no easy matter to pass across that dense mass of children. Lejbele at last managed to squeeze himself through, and holding his book with both hands, stood within the small space between the teacher's table and the front bench. He did not look at the melamed, but kept his eyes fixed upon the book.
"Why do you look down like a brigand? Look at me!" and the melamed struck him under the chin.
The child looked at him, his eyes slowly filling with tears.
"Well! what does the school of Shamai say, and what the school of
Hillel?" began the melamed.