Once more the workmen exchanged looks with the teachers, and, at a sign from them, they sat down.
Reb Shloimeh began telling them the long story of the human race, he spoke with ardor, and it was long since his voice had sounded as it sounded then.
He spoke for a long, long time.
They interrupted him two or three times, and reminded him that it was bad for him to talk so much. But he only signified with a gesture that they were to let him alone.
"I am getting better," he said, and went on.
At length the workmen rose from their seats.
"Let us go, Reb Shloimeh. It's getting late for us," they begged.
"True, true," he replied, "but to-morrow, do you hear? Look here, children, to-morrow!" he said, giving them his hand.
The workmen promised to come. They moved away a few steps, and then Reb Shloimeh called them back.
"And the others?" he inquired feebly, as though he were ashamed of asking.