“_Boruch Hashem_, quite well,” she responded with a smile. “My friends are good and patronize me steadily, but I feel that I am growing older. I was quite ill the other day. I nearly fainted here on the street; but the people in the delicatessen store were very kind. They took me in and gave me cold water, and kept me there until I recovered; and I am feeling quite well now.” While listening to her words, I thought to myself how hard her lot was; and I asked myself whether it really was necessary for her to stand on the street and earn her living in such a trying manner. “My good Mrs. Levy,” I said, “don’t you think your life is too hard for you? Would you not rather go to some institution where you would be cared for?” “Oh, no, thank you,” she responded. “I don’t wish to go to a home. I have a husband, although he is old and feeble, and good children who do what they can for me; and I am glad that I still can earn something myself. You know what King David says in the Psalms,” and she quoted glibly, “_Yegia keppecho ki sochel, ashrecho ve-tov-loch_” (“If thou eatest what thy hands earn, thou art happy, and it is well with thee”). “I eat what my hands earn, so I am happy.” “Why don’t you come to our house any more?” broke in my wife. “Oh,” answered the little horseradish woman, “I heard that another woman brings you your horseradish, and I did not wish to be _massig gevool_.” Our package was now ready and we departed. But my thoughts gave me no rest. I was thinking continually of the little horseradish woman, and whether it was not possible to devise some means of improving her lot. A few blocks down the avenue we met Mr. and Mrs. Bergheim. They are friends and neighbors of ours, and our greetings were cordial. I soon turned the conversation to that which was uppermost in my thoughts. “You know the little horseradish woman, do you not?” I asked. The Bergheims nodded assent. “Don’t you think something could be done for her?” I continued. “It does seem wrong that such a worthy old person should be forced to stand on the street and toil so hard for a livelihood.” The Bergheims smiled at each other peculiarly. “What would you do for her?” asked Mr. Bergheim. “She is much too proud to accept charity; besides, she really does not need to work, as her children supply her with all she requires for herself and husband. Her horseradish receipts are so much extra income that she earns.” I must confess that this reply rather staggered me. There appeared to be a mystery about the horseradish woman which was puzzling, to say the least. “But why, in the name of common sense,” I demanded, “does such an old and not overstrong woman toil on the streets, in rain and shine, by day and by night, if she has all she requires and does not need to work? It doesn’t seem reasonable. She isn’t touched in her upper story, I hope?”