Again some time has passed. Reb Monash sits upright upon that corner chair wherein none shall sit whether Reb Monash be asleep upstairs or at the furthest limit of his peregrinations—because "Respect! respect!" he declares, "What means it to be sitting on a father's chair!" He is sitting upright and his left fist clenched angrily beats the table before him in punctuation of his utterances.
"Has one ever heard of such a thing? A yungatsch of fifteen, not more, to stand up in the market-place with the enemies of Israel and talk black things! That's what it means, your schools and your teachers! His parent, what is he? An isvostchik! I never had any trust in these Rumanians. The town rings with it. Imagine! standing up on a cart among the Atheists and Free-Lovers and Socialists! It's a shkandal. It will bring his mother's grey hairs in sorrow to the grave. Sooner my son should in the grave himself be than behave like that proselytized Sewelson. Understand, not a word, Feivel! Thou must never put foot into the heathen's house! I forbid it! I have had my doubts for long. Would that I had so commanded before this day. God knows what poison thou canst have drunk from his lips. What, what sayest thou, Philip?"
"Tatte, I can't, he's my only pal! I'll be alone without him. And he doesn't do it every week, anyhow. It's only this once!"
"Never must he enter this house! And if thou art ever seen with him, I will break for thee thy bones, all of them. No more now!" He brought the palm of his hand down emphatically. "Chayah, bring me a glass of tea! Tell thy son to go to bed! If not it will be the worse for him!"
Philip's heart shook with resentment and grief. "I won't give him up," he muttered fiercely behind his teeth. "He won't stop me! He can't! I'll be damned if I give him up! He'll see!"
Heavy wings were brooding over the kitchen in Angel Street. The gas jet drooped dejectedly as if reluctant to light up the scared faces of Mrs. Massel and her daughter. They sat side by side on the sofa nervously rubbing together the palms of their hands. The thin white cat scratched his ribs against their ankles and howled into their faces inquiringly.
"Never mind," said Channah, "perhaps he'll just give him a good hiding and send him off without supper. It's happened before, mother. Don't look so worried!"
"Thou dost not know, Channah, what he's been saying to me in bed the last few nights. He said if he'll go again with Sewelson he'll shmeis him till he begs for mercy. He said he'll keep him in the cellar all night, he'll shmeis him till he can't even cry. Oh, what a year has fallen upon us, Channah!"
"I hate Sewelson, it's all his fault! I wish he was at the bottom of the sea!" Channah burst out bitterly.
"But it was wrong of Feivel. It was wrong to go out with Sewelson again. I told him. He deserves it. But no, the poor dove, not ..."