To a pious Jew letters and oysters are alike forbidden—at least letters may not be opened on our day of rest.
VERA
I'm sure I couldn't rest till I'd opened mine.
[Enter from the kitchen Frau Quixano, defending herself with excited gesticulation. She is an old lady with a black wig, but her appearance is dignified, venerable even, in no way comic. She speaks Yiddish exclusively, that being largely the language of the Russian Pale.]
FRAU QUIXANO
Obber ich hob gesogt zu Kathleen——
MENDEL [Turning and going to her]
Yes, yes, mother, that's all right now.
FRAU QUIXANO [In horror, perceiving her Hebrew book on the floor, where Kathleen has dropped it]
Mein Buch!