"And then..." she echoes in a whisper.
"And then it will all come right," and his eyes flash into hers. "Just as you are. . ." he whispers.
And she looks at him, and a smile crosses her face. She feels so happy, so happy.
Next morning she went to the postoffice for the first time with her bank-book, took out a few rubles, and gave them to her mother.
The mother sighed heavily, and took on a grieved expression; she frowned, and pulled her head-kerchief down over her eyes.
Old Reb Yainkel lying in bed turned his face to the wall.
The old man knew where the money came from, he knew how his only child had toiled for those few rubles. Other fathers gave money to their children, and he took it—
It seemed to him as though he were plundering the two young people. He had not long to live, and he was robbing them before he died.
As he thought on this, his eyes glazed, the veins on his temple swelled, and his face became suffused with blood.
His head is buried in the pillow, and turns to the wall, he lies and thinks these thoughts.
He knows that he is in the way of the children's happiness, and he prays that he may die.
And she, Feigele, would like to come into a fortune all at once, to have a lot of money, to be as rich as any adds Alamel great lady.
