How could Mr. Sopkin resist such seductive flattery? “Hanneh Hayyeh!” he laughed. “You’re crazy up in the air, but nobody can say no to anything you take into your head.” He tossed his knife down on the counter. “Everybody!” he called; “let us do her the pleasure and give a look on what she got to show us.” “Oi weh! I ain’t got no time,” protested one. “I left my baby alone in the house locked in.” “And I left a pot of eating on the stove boiling. It must be all burned away by this time.” “But you all got time to stand around here and chatter like a box of monkeys, for hours,” admonished Mr. Sopkin. “This will only take a minute. You know Hanneh Hayyeh. We can’t tear ourselves away from her till we do what wills itself in her mind.” Protesting and gesticulating, they all followed Mr. Sopkin as Hanneh Hayyeh led the way. Through the hallway of a dark, ill-smelling tenement, up two flights of crooked, rickety stairs, they filed. When Hanneh Hayyeh opened the door there were exclamations of wonder and joy: “Oi! Oi!” and “Ay! Ay! Takeh! Takeh!” “Gold is shining from every corner!” “Like for a holiday!” “You don’t need to light up the gas, so it shines!” “I wish I could only have it so grand!” “You ain’t got worries on your head, so it lays in your mind to make it so fancy.” Mr. Sopkin stood with mouth open, stunned with wonder at the transformation. Hanneh Hayyeh shook him by the sleeve exultantly. “Nu? Why ain’t you saying something?” “Grand ain’t the word for it! What a whiteness! And what a cleanliness! It tears out the eyes from the head! Such a tenant the landlord ought to give out a medal or let down the rent free. I saw the rooms before and I see them now. What a difference from one house to another.” “Ain’t you coming in?” Hanneh Hayyeh besought her neighbors. “God from the world! To step with our feet on this new painted floor?” “Shah!” said the butcher, taking off his apron and spreading it on the floor. “You can all give a step on my apron. It’s dirty, anyhow.” They crowded in on the outspread apron and vied with one another in their words of praise. “May you live to see your son married from this kitchen, and may we all be invited to the wedding!” “May you live to eat here cake and wine on the feasts of your grandchildren!” “May you have the luck to get rich and move from here into your own bought house!” “Amen!” breathed Hanneh Hayyeh. “May we all forget from our worries for rent!” * * * * * Mrs. Preston followed with keen delight Hanneh Hayyeh’s every movement as she lifted the wash from the basket and spread it on the bed. Hanneh Hayyeh’s rough, toil-worn hands lingered lovingly, caressingly over each garment. It was as though the fabrics held something subtly animate in their texture that penetrated to her very finger-tips.