The door was flung open. A storm of flying apron-strings filled the threshold, and a cloud of loose hair. It was the mother of Jakey. "Reb Monash, what is for such a thing?" she demanded indignantly. "One might think a policeman, not a _rebbie_. My poor Jakele, gentle as a dove, a credit in Israel! What for a new thing is this?" Reb Monash lifted his hands deprecatingly. "What say you, Mrs. Gerber? An hour later he comes...." She gave him no time to continue. "And then to lay about him with a walking-stick! A Tartar, not a Jew! Never a word of complaint from God or man about my poor orphan and ... to come to _chayder_ ... and a pogrom! _Oi, a shkandal_! A walking-stick like a tree! A moujik, God should so help me, not a _rebbie_! Poor Jakele, crying his heart out like a dove! I'll take him away from a so crooked _chayder_!" "But that concerns me little!" broke in Reb Monash. "For each one that goes, come four each time!" (This confident mathematic invariably puzzled Philip. He knew how necessary to the Massel family was an increased income. Why should not Reb Monash dismiss his whole _chayder_ and then automatically increase his clientele fourfold?) "Like a tree a walking-stick!" continued Mrs. Gerber. She flounced through the door. "Such a year! Such a black year shall seize you!" she spat. The door closed with a loud bang. It was impossible to sit down under it. Not only to have been assaulted, but to be accused of being the assailant was too much to bear. Reb Monash took his skull-cap, his _yamelke_, from his head, placed it on the mantelshelf, and assumed his silk hat. "Learn over your passages!" he rapped out as he followed furiously to the house of Jakey. There was subdued whispering at first. "Wot a lark!" said some one. "Oo--aye! Wot a lark!" some one else repeated. Then every one laughed. Philip was hilarious. It really was too funny--Jakey the dove! "I've got the stomach-ache, _rebbie_!" "No you've not, you mean your muvver's dying!" Some one lifted the walking-stick. Barney did a _pas seul_ in the corner. The gaiety of the situation intoxicated everybody. Philip was swept off his feet by the general merriment. He reached up for his father's skull-cap, put it on and looked round solemnly. Barney imitated Mrs. Gerber with great distinction. "A moujik, not a _rebbie_!" At this moment the door opened. Reb Monash's face looked round glowering below his silk hat. Quick as thought Philip covered the borrowed skull-cap, knowing there was no time to replace it, with his own cap. He felt the unfortunate load pressing guiltily against his head. Reb Monash took off the silk hat and looked round for the _yamelke_. "Where's my _yamelke_?" he demanded fiercely. "Dunno!" a murmur rose. "Did I not place it on the mantelshelf?" "Didn' see yer!" "Dost thou know?" "No, _rebbie_!" "Dost thou, Philip?" "No, _tatte_!" "Dost thou, Barney?" "No, _rebbie_!" "Empty ye out all your pockets!"