. . . . .
Okhrim the gardener had for years cultivated fields outside the town. He rented a piece of ground, made a garden of it, and planted in it melons and pumpkins, and onions and garlic and radishes and other vegetables. He made a good living in this way. How did I know Okhrim? He used to deal with us. That is to say, he used to borrow money off my mother every Passover eve, and about "Succoth" time, he used to begin to pay it back by degrees. These payments used to be entered on the inside cover of my mother's prayer-book. There was a separate page for Okhrim, and a separate account. It was headed in big writing, "Okhrim's account." Under these words came the entries: "A 'rouble' from Okhrim. Another 'rouble' from Okhrim. Two 'roubles' from Okhrim. Half a 'rouble' from Okhrim. A sack of potatoes from Okhrim," and so on.... And though my mother was not rich—a widow with children, who lived by money-lending—she took no interest from Okhrim. He used to repay us in garden-produce, sometimes more, sometimes less. We never quarrelled with him.
If the harvest was good, he filled our cellar with potatoes and cucumbers to last us all the winter. And if the harvest was bad, he used to come and plead with my mother:
"Do not be offended, Mrs. Abraham, the harvest is bad."
My mother forgave him, and told him not to be greedy next year.
"You may trust me, Mrs. Abraham, you may trust me," Okhrim replied. And he kept his word. He brought us the first pickings of onions and garlic. We had new potatoes and green cucumbers before the rich folks. I heard our neighbours say, more than once, that the widow was not so badly off as she said. "See, they bring her the best of everything." Of course, I at once told my mother what I had heard, and she poured out a few curses on our neighbours.
"Salt in their eyes, and stones in their hearts! Whoever begrudges me what I have, let him have nothing. I wish them to be in my position next year."
Naturally, I at once told my neighbours what my mother had wished them; and, of course, for these words they were enraged against her. They called her by a name I was ashamed to hear.... Naturally I was angry, and at once told my mother of it. My mother gave me two smacks and told me to give up carrying "'Purim' presents" from one to the other. The smacks pained, and the words "'Purim' presents" gnawed at my brain. I could not understand why she said "'Purim' presents."
I used to rejoice when I saw Okhrim from the distance, in his high boots and his thick, white, warm, woollen pellisse which he wore winter and summer. When I saw him, I knew he was bringing us a sackful of garden produce. And I flew into the kitchen to tell my mother the news that Okhrim was coming.
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