“Of course my son will help him. All my children like to do good. My daughter Fanny is a milliner on Fifth Avenue, and she takes in the poorest girls in her shop and even pays them sometimes while they learn the trade.” Hanneh Breineh’s face lit up, and her chest filled with pride as she enumerated the successes of her children. “And my son Benny he wrote a play on Broadway and he gave away more than a hundred free tickets for the first night.” “Benny? The one who used to get lost from home all the time? You always did love that child more than all the rest. And what is Sammy your baby doing?” “He ain’t a baby no longer. He goes to college and quarterbacks the football team. They can’t get along without him. “And my son Jake, I nearly forgot him. He began collecting rent in Delancey Street, and now he is boss of renting the swellest apartment-houses on Riverside Drive.” “What did I tell you? In America children are like money in the bank,” purred Mrs. Pelz, as she pinched and patted Hanneh Breineh’s silk sleeve. “Oi weh! How it shines from you! You ought to kiss the air and dance for joy and happiness. It is such a bitter frost outside; a pail of coal is so dear, and you got it so warm with steam heat. I had to pawn my feather bed to have enough for the rent, and you are rolling in money.” “Yes, I got it good in some ways, but money ain’t everything,” sighed Hanneh Breineh. “You ain’t yet satisfied?” “But here I got no friends,” complained Hanneh Breineh. “Friends?” queried Mrs. Pelz. “What greater friend is there on earth than the dollar?” “Oi! Mrs. Pelz; if you could only look into my heart! I’m so choked up! You know they say a cow has a long tongue, but can’t talk.” Hanneh Breineh shook her head wistfully, and her eyes filmed with inward brooding. “My children give me everything from the best. When I was sick, they got me a nurse by day and one by night. They bought me the best wine. If I asked for dove’s milk, they would buy it for me; but--but--I can’t talk myself out in their language. They want to make me over for an American lady, and I’m different.” Tears cut their way under her eyelids with a pricking pain as she went on: “When I was poor, I was free, and could holler and do what I like in my own house. Here I got to lie still like a mouse under a broom. Between living up to my Fifth-Avenue daughter and keeping up with the servants, I am like a sinner in the next world that is thrown from one hell to another.” The doorbell rang, and Hanneh Breineh jumped up with a start. “Oi weh! It must be the servant back already!” she exclaimed, as she tore off her apron. “Oi weh! Let’s quickly put the dishes together in a dish-pan. If she sees I eat on the kitchen table, she will look on me like the dirt under her feet.” Mrs. Pelz seized her shawl in haste. “I better run home quick in my rags before your servant sees me.”