"I thought you might want me for something else," said Esther, blushing but accepting the peppermint for Ikey. "And I—I—"
"Well, speak up! I won't bite thee." Malka continued to talk in Yiddish though the child answered her in English. "I—I—nothing," said Esther, turning away.
"Here, turn thy face round, child," said Malka, putting her hand on the girl's forcibly averted head. "Be not so sullen, thy mother was like that, she'd want to bite my head off if I hinted thy father was not the man for her, and then she'd schmull and sulk for a week after. Thank God, we have no one like that in this house. I couldn't live for a day with people with such nasty tempers. Her temper worried her into the grave, though, if thy father had not brought his mother over from Poland my poor cousin might have carried home my fish to-night instead of thee. Poor Gittel, peace be upon him! Come tell me what ails thee, or thy dead mother will be cross with thee."
Esther turned her head and murmured: "I thought you might lend me the three and sevenpence halfpenny!"
"Lend thee—?" exclaimed Malka. "Why, how canst thou ever repay it?"
"Oh yes," affirmed Esther earnestly. "I have lots of money in the bank."
"Eh! what? In the bank!" gasped Malka.
"Yes. I won five pounds in the school and I'll pay you out of that."
"Thy father never told me that!" said Malka. "He kept that dark. Ah, he is a regular Schnorrer!"
"My father hasn't seen you since," retorted Esther hotly. "If you had come round when he was sitting shiva for Benjamin, peace be upon him, you would have known."