"Moms, let Williams."
"No; she likes it when your father does it."
Mr. Pelz leaned over, transferring his own knife and fork. In Yiddish:
"Grandmother, I hear you've been flirting with Doctor Isadore Aarons. Now, don't you let me hear any more such nonsense. The young girls in this house got to walk the straight line."
The old face broke still more furiously into wrinkle, the hand reaching out to top his.
"Don't tease her, Roody; she likes to be let alone in public."
MR. FEIST: The old lady certainly holds her own, don't she? Honest, I'd give anything if I knew how to talk to her a little.
"No, Mr. Feist, mamma's breaking. Every day since her stroke I can see it more. It nearly kills me, too. It's pretty lonesome for her, up here away from all her old friends. Outside of my husband and Bleema, not a soul in the house talks her language except Sol and Etta when they come over."
"She's my nice darling grandma," said Miss Pelz, suddenly pirouetting up from her chair around the table, kissing the old lips lightly and then back again, all in a butterfly jiffy.
MRS. PELZ (sotto to Mr. Feist). Ain't she the sweetest thing with her grandmother?