"Home I ain't never denied my children—open doors they get always in my house but in a highway-robbery hotel, where I can't afford—"
"We got the cheapest family rates here. Such rates we get here, children, and highway robbery your father calls it!"
"Five months we been in the city, and three months already a empty house standing out there waiting, and nothing from it coming in. A house I love like my life, a house what me and your mamma wish we was back in every minute of the day!"
"I only said, Julius, for myself I like my little home best, but—"
"I ain't got the strength for the street-car ride no more. I ain't got appetite for this sloppy American food no more. I can't breathe no more in that coop up-stairs. Right now you should know how my feet hurt for slippers; a collar I got to wear to supper when like a knife it cuts me. I can't afford this. I got such troubles with business I only wish for one day you should have 'em. I want my little house, my porch, my vines, and my chickens. I want my comforts. My son ain't my boss."
Isadore pushed back from the table, his jaw low and sullen.
"I ain't going to sit through a meal and be abused like—like I was a—"
"You ain't got to sit; stand up, then."
"Izzy—for God's sakes, Izzy, the people! Julius, so help me if I come down to a meal with you again. Look, Julius, for God's sake—the Teitlebaums are watching us—the people! Smile at me, Poil, like we was joking. Izzy, if you leave this table now I—I can't stand it! Laugh, Poil, like we was having our little fun among us."
The women exchanged the ghastly simulacrum of a smile, and the meal resumed in silence. Only small beads sprang out on the shiny surface of Mr. Binswanger's head like dewdrops on the glossy surface of leaves, and twice his fork slipped and clattered from his hand.