May had been cold and wet from beginning to end. People began to feel as if summer would never come, as if it would go on freezing and raining forever. At last, the day before Pentecost, the sun shone out.
"Torah is light!" said my father, with proud satisfaction, and began to look for the Tikun[109] for the night of Pentecost.
"In honor of the holy feast-day!" exclaimed my mother, joyfully, and went back with fresh courage to her cake-making.
"I am going to bake Gelle Challeh!"[110] she called to us.
Soon the house was filled with the smell of freshly-kneaded dough, saffron, cinnamon and cloves, sugared cheese and melted butter.
My younger sister Hannah took no part in what was going forward.
She sat by the window over a book, but she read nothing, and her eyes stared anxiously out into the street.
Our mother called on her several times for help, but Hannah did not even answer....
The pale face wears a scornful smile ... the delicate lips open, she is about to speak! But she remains silent, and fastens her eyes upon her book.
"Lazy thing!" grumbles our mother, "always poring over books! Working-day or holiday, it's all the same to her!"