All went smoothly till they got some way up town, when Sarah gave a start.
"I don't feel very well—my head is so dizzy," she said to Shmuel.
"I don't feel very well, either," answered Shmuel. "I suppose the fresh air has upset us."
"I suppose it has," said his wife. "I'm afraid for the children."
Scarcely had she spoken when Doletzke woke up, whimpering, and was sick. Yossele, who was looking at her, began to cry likewise. The mother scolded him, and this set the other children crying. The conductor cast a wrathful glance at poor Shmuel, who was so frightened that he dropped the hand-bag with the provisions, and then, conscious of the havoc he had certainly brought about inside the bag by so doing, he lost his head altogether, and sat there in a daze. Sarah was hushing the children, but the look in her eyes told Shmuel plainly enough what to expect once they had left the car. And no sooner had they all reached the ground in safety than Sarah shot out:
"So, nothing would content him but a picnic? Much good may it do him! You're a workman, and workmen have no call to go gadding about!"
Shmuel was already weary of the whole thing, and said nothing, but he felt a tightening of the heart.
He took up Yossele on one arm and Resele on the other, and carried the bag with the presumably smashed-up contents besides.
"Hush, my dears! Hush, my babies!" he said. "Wait a little and mother will give you some bread and sugar. Hush, be quiet!" He went on, but still the children cried.
Sarah carried Doletzke, and rocked her as she walked, while Berele and Hannahle trotted alongside.