COUNTRY FOLK 551
"What, not Amen? Eh, eh, you little silly, that is no great matter. Where is the difficulty? One just ups and answers!" said his father, gently, but Feivke heard that the while his father was trying to quiet him, his own voice trembled.
At the other end of the bridge there appeared the great inn with the covered terrace, and in front of the building were moving groups of Jews in holiday garb, with red handkerchiefs in their hands, women in yellow silk head-kerchiefs, and boys in new clothes hold- ing small prayer-books. Feivke remained obstinately outside the crowd, and hung about the stable, his black eyes staring defiantly from beneath the worn-out leather cap. But he was not left alone long, for soon there came to him a smart, yellow-haired boy, with restless little light-colored eyes, and a face like a chicken's, cov- ered with freckles. This little boy took a little bottle with some essence in it out of his pocket, gave it a twist and a flourish in the air, and suddenly applied it to Feivke's nose, so that the strong waters spurted into his nostril. Then he asked :
"To whom do you belong ?"
Feivke blew the water out of his nose, and turned his head away in silence.
"Listen, turkey, lazy dog ! What are you doing there ? Have you said Minchah?"
"N-no ..."
"Is the Jew in a torn cloak there your father?"
"Y-yes ... T-tate ..."
The yellow-haired boy took Feivke by the sleeve.
"Come along, and you'll see what they'll do to your father."
