"I'm trying to think," explains Yudith, "what we can have for dinner to-morrow that will cost nothing, and yet be satisfying."
"Oi, weh is mir!" sighs Breklin again, and is at a loss what to advise.
"I wonder" (this time it is Yudith) "what o'clock it is now!"
"It will soon be morning," is Breklin's opinion.
"Morning? Nonsense!" Yudith knows better.
"It must be morning soon!" He holds to it.
"You are very anxious for the morning," says Yudith, good-naturedly, "and so you think it will soon be here, and I tell you, it's not midnight yet."
"What are you talking about? You don't know what you're saying! I shall go out of my mind."
"You know," says Yudith, "that Avremele always wakes at midnight and cries, and he's still fast asleep."
"No, Mame," comes from under Avremele's heap of rags.