A FATHER IN SION
children, heard you all my prayer? Don't you be blockheads nowspeak out.”
“There’s lovely it was,” said Sadrach the Small.
“My children?” said Sadrach.
“Iss, iss,” they answered.
“Well, well, then. How can I tell you?” Sadrach put his fingers through the thin beard which covered the opening of his waistcoat, closed his eyes, and murmured a prayer. “Your mother Achsah is not what she should be. Indeed to goodness, now, what disgrace this is! Is it not breaking my heart? You did hear how I said to the nice Big Man that I was like Job? Achsah is mad.”
Rachel sobbed.
“Weep you not, Rachel. It is not for us to question the all-wise ways of the Big Man. Do you dry your eyes on your
apron now, my daughter. You, too, have your mother's eyes. Let me weep in my solitude. Oh, what sin have I committed,
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