"A stone, holding him down."
"Ma!" Mr. Lipkind pushed back, napkin awry at his throat and his eyes snapping points of light. "Now if you want to spoil my breakfast, just say so and I—I'll quit. Why should you be living with Ruby out in Marietta if you're happier here with me where you belong? If you knew how sore these here fits of yours make me, you'd cut them out—that's what you would. I'm not going over to Clara's at all now for supper, if that's how you feel about it."
Mrs. Lipkind rose then, crossed, leaning over the back of his chair and inclosing his face in the quivering hold of her two hands. "Sammy, Sammy, I didn't mean it! I know I ain't in your way. How can I be when there ain't a day passes I don't invite you to get married and come here to live and fix the flat any way what Clara wants or even move down-town in a finer one where she likes it? I know I ain't in your way, son. I take it back."
"Well, that's more like it."
"You mustn't be mad at mamma when she gets old-fashioned ideas in her head."
He stroked her hand at his cheek, pressing it closer.
"Sit down and finish your breakfast, little sweetheart mamma."
"Is it all right now, Sammy?"
"Of course it is!" he said, his eyes squeezed tightly shut.
"Promise mamma you'll go over by Clara's to-night."