At the top of the flight the door of the apartment stood open; a blob of gas lighted a yellowish way to the kitchen, and through the yellow Mrs. Ginsburg's voice drifted out to them: "Once more I call you, Abie, and then I dish up supper and eat alone--no consideration that boy has got for his mother! He should know what it is not to have a mother who fixes him _Pfannkuechen_ in this heat! Don't complain to me if everything is not fit to eat! In the heat I stand and cook, and that boy closes so late--Abie! Once more I call you and then I dish up. Ab-ie!" Mrs. Ginsburg's voice rose to an acidulated high C. "Mamma! Mamma, don't get so excited--it ain't late. The days get shorter, that's all. Look! I brought company for supper. We don't stand on no ceremony. Come right in the kitchen, Ruby." Mr. Ginsburg pushed Miss Cohn into the room before him, and Mrs. Ginsburg raised her face from over the steaming stove-top--the pink of heat and exertion high in her cheek. Reflexly her hand clutched at the collar of her black wrapper, where it fell away to reveal the line where the double scallop of her chin met the high swell of her bosom. "Miss Cohn! Miss Cohn!" "How do you do, Mrs. Ginsburg? I--" "Sit right down, Miss Cohn--or you and Abie go in the front room till I dish up. You must excuse me the way I holler, but so mad that boy makes me. Just like his poor papa, he makes a long face if his supper is cold, but not once does he come up on time." "All men are alike, Mrs. Ginsburg--that's what they say about 'em anyway." "Such a supper we got you'll have to excuse, Miss Cohn. Abie, take them German papers off the chair. Miss Cohn can sit out here a minute if she don't mind such heat. If Abie had taken the trouble to tell me you was coming I'd have fixed--" "I am glad you don't fix no extras for me, Mrs. Ginsburg. I like to take just pot-luck." "Abie likes _Pfannkuechen_ and pot-roast better than the finest I can fix him, and this morning at Fulton Market I seen such grand green beans; and I said to Yetta, 'I fix 'em sweet-sour for supper; he likes them so.'" "I love sweet-sour beans, too, Mrs. Ginsburg. My landlady fixes all them German dishes swell." "Well, you don't mind that I don't make no extras for you? You had a nice vacation? I tell Abie he should take one himself--not? He worked hisself sick last week. I was scared enough about him. Abie, why don't you find a chair for yourself? Why you stand there like--like--" Even as she spoke the red suddenly ran out of Mrs. Ginsburg's face, leaving it the color of oysters packed in ice. "Abie!" For answer Mr. Ginsburg crossed the room and took his mother in a wide-armed embrace, so that his mouth was close to her ear. His lips were pale and tinged with a faintly green aura, like a child's who holds his breath from rage or a lyceum reader's who feels the icy clutch of stage-panic on him. "Mamma, we--we--me and Ruby got a surprise-party for you. Guess, mamma--such a grand surprise for you!"