Mr. Katzenstein settled deeper in his chair; his head, bald on top and with a fringe of bristles over the ears, was hunched down between his shoulders.
"You've been a good mother, Salcha."
"Not such a mother as you've been a father—me and them girls never wanted for one thing, even when you couldn't afford it as now."
"Ah—ho!" sighed Mr. Katzenstein.
"You're tired, papa, and it's late. Here, I'll unlace your shoes for you."
"No; in a minute I go to bed—such a back-ache!"
"She's got a good man; and, like you say, that's the main thing," repeated Mrs. Katzenstein, intent on self-conviction. "It ain't always the money."
"Ya, ya!" said Mr. Katzenstein.
"Look at us when we was down on Grand Street! We was happy—You remember that green-plush dress I had, papa?"
"Yes, Salcha."