"Abie!"
For answer Mr. Ginsburg crossed the room and took his mother in a wide-armed embrace, so that his mouth was close to her ear. His lips were pale and tinged with a faintly green aura, like a child's who holds his breath from rage or a lyceum reader's who feels the icy clutch of stage-panic on him.
"Mamma, we—we—me and Ruby got a surprise-party for you. Guess, mamma—such a grand surprise for you!"
Mrs. Ginsburg placed her two fists against her son's blue shirt-front, threw back her head, and looked into his eyes; her heavy waist-line swayed backward against his firm embrace; immediate tears sprang into her eyes.
"Abie! Abie!"
"Mamma, look how happy you should be! Ain't you always wanted a daughter, mamma? For joy she cries, Ruby."
"Abie, my boy! Ach, Miss Cohn, you must excuse me."
"Aw, now, mamma, don't cry so. Look! You make my shoulder all wet—shame on you! You should laugh like never in your life! Ruby, you and mamma kiss right away—you should get to know each other now."
"Ach, Miss Cohn, you must excuse me. I always told him I mustn't stand in his way; but what that boy is to me, Miss Cohn—what—what—"
"Ruby—mamma, call her Ruby. Ain't she your little Ruby as much as mine—now, ain't she?"