I give him to understand that it is only noon, that I should be sorry to waste the day.
"Nu, what shall I do?" answers the rabbi, and folds his hands. "The rebbitzin has just started mending my cloak."
"Call them in here!"
"Call them? It's easy enough to call them, but who will come? Are they likely to listen to me? Perhaps I had better go in my dressing-gown?"
"It wouldn't do, rabbi!" exclaimed the Maskil, 'the inspector is going about in the Gass.
"For my part," said the rabbi, "I would have gone, but if you say no—no!"
It is settled that we shall all three call the people together from the window. But opening the window is no such easy matter. It hasn't been opened for about fifteen years. The panes are cracked with the sun, the putty dried up, the window shakes at every step on the floor. The frame is worm-eaten, and only rust keeps it fastened to the wall. It is just a chance if there are hinges.
And yet we succeeded. We opened first one side and then the other without doing any damage.
The rabbi stood in the centre, I and the Maskil on either side of him, and we all three began to call out.
The market was full of people.