"When the lace curtain blows in it means you're in a draught, mamma—half-way open you can have it, but not all. Without me to fuss you'd have a fine rheumatism—like it ain't dangerous for you to sleep where there's enough draught to blow the curtain in."
"Abie, if you don't feel good, in two minutes I can get up and heat the broth if—"
"I'm grand, mamma. Here, I move this chair so the light from Magintys' don't shine in your eyes."
"What she does in her kitchen so late I don't know. Good night, Abie. In the dark you look like poor papa. How he used to fuss round the room at night fixing me just like you—poor papa, Abie—not? Poor papa?"
"Good night, mamma."
Mr. Ginsburg leaned over and kissed his mother lightly on the forehead.
"Double cream did you say I should write the milkman?"
"Yes—and, Abie, don't forget to cover the bird."
"Yes. Here, I leave the door half-way open, mamma. Good night."
"Abie! Abie!"