"'What did papa do?' she asks. She's got easy asking. 'What did papa do?' The whole shop, I tell you. A sheep with a baa inside when you squeeze on him--games--a horn so he can holler my head off--such a knife like Izzie's with a scissors in it. 'Leon,' I said, ashamed for Naftel, 'that's a fine knife like Izzie's so you can cut up with. All right, then'--when I see how he hollers--'such a box full of soldiers to have war with.' 'Dollar seventy-five,' says Naftel. 'All right, then,' I says, when I seen how he keeps hollering. 'Give you a dollar fifteen for 'em.' I should make myself small for fifteen cents more. 'Dollar fifteen,' I says--anything so he should shut up with his hollering for what he seen in the window." "He seen something in the window he wanted, Abrahm?" "Didn't I tell you? A feedle! A four-dollar feedle! A moosicer, so we should have another feedler in the family for some thirty-cents lessons." "Abrahm--you mean--he--our Leon--wanted a violin?" "'Wanted,' she says. I could potch him again this minute for how he wanted it! _Du_--you little bum you--_chammer_--_momser_--I'll feedle you!" Across Mrs. Kantor's face, as she knelt there in the shapeless cotton-stuff uniform of poverty, through the very tenement of her body, a light had flashed up into her eyes. She drew her son closer, crushing his puny cheek up against hers, cupping his bristly little head in her by no means immaculate palms. "He wanted a violin! It's come, Abrahm! The dream of all my life--my prayers--it's come! I knew it must be one of my children if I waited long enough--and prayed enough. A musician! He wants a violin! He cried for a violin! My baby! Why, darlink, mamma'll sell her clothes off her back to get you a violin. He's a musician, Abrahm! I should have known it the way he's fooling always around the chimes and the bells in the store!" Then Mr. Kantor took to rocking his head between his palms. "Oi--oi! The mother is crazier as her son. A moosician! A _fresser_, you mean. Such an eater, it's a wonder he ain't twice too big instead of twice too little for his age." "That's a sign, Abrahm; geniuses, they all eat big. For all we know, he's a genius. I swear to you, Abrahm, all the months before he was born I prayed for it. Each one before they came, I prayed it should be the one. I thought that time the way our Isadore ran after the organ-grinder he would be the one. How could I know it was the monkey he wanted? When Isadore wouldn't take to it I prayed my next one, and then my next one, should have the talent. I've prayed for it, Abrahm. If he wants a violin, please, he should have it." "Not with my money." "With mine! I've got enough saved, Abrahm. Them three extra dollars right here inside my own waist. Just that much for that cape down on Grand Street. I wouldn't have it now, the way they say the wind blows up them--" "I tell you the woman's crazy--"