"_Ach_, my baby!" sobbed Mrs. Katzenstein. "And now the whole town already knows it! If only he had known this last night, before it was too late!" "Salcha, how you talk!" "My own husband turns against me!" "That they should start little, mamma, is just so good as they should start big. My boy, you got a good head; and with a good head and a good heart you got just so good a start as you need. Go 'way, you foolisher children! You make me sick with your crying and _gedinks_!" "Such a father I got, Marcus! What did I tell you, how he would act--what did I tell you?" She kissed her father lightly on the cheek. "Go 'way, you children!" he repeated. "You got it too good as it is--ain't it, mamma?" "I guess you're right, Rudolph; but how I had plans for that girl, papa can tell you, Marcus! You're a good boy, Marcus, and she's got her heart set on you; but I--I hate it how everybody can talk now--something to talk about for them all!" "They should talk!" said Mr. Katzenstein, lighting a cigar. "And talk and talk!" "What I ordered embroidered linens enough for five rooms now I don't know, Birdie! If you want him I say you should have him--but how I had plans for that girl!" "I'll work for her, all right, Mrs. Katzenstein. It will be five rooms before you know it--this don't mean, Mrs. Katzenstein--maw!--that I won't ever get up." "Kiss me, Marcus," said Mrs. Katzenstein. "That she should be happy is all I care." "Now, Marcus, we'll go up and see Mamma Gump." "Get ready, little Birdie," he said. "Good night, Marcus! You're a good boy, and you'll be good to our baby. Even if she ain't got it so grand, she's got a good husband--that's more than Meena Ginsburg's got." "Run along, you children," said Mr. Katzenstein. "Here, Marcus, put a cigar in your pocket--one of Goldstein's ten-cent specials." "I don't smoke, paw," said Marcus. He went out, his arm linked in Birdie's. Their laughter drifted backward. Mrs. Katzenstein resumed her chair in the warm glow of the logs--her full face, with the scallop of double chin, was suddenly old and lined; her husband drew up his curved-back rocker beside her. "Mamma, you shouldn't take on so. Everything comes for the best." "You can talk, papa! Now I had even told Mrs. Ginsburg for sure she should have one of those Ninety-sixth Street apartments." "You women folks make me sick! You should be glad we got our health, mamma, and good men for our girls." "I guess you're right, papa. He's a grand young man!" "A good boy--_ach_, how tired I am!" "Stretch out your feet, papa. It's warm by the fire." The light flickered over their faces and sent long shadows wavering and dancing back of them. Mr. Katzenstein settled deeper in his chair; his head, bald on top and with a fringe of bristles over the ears, was hunched down between his shoulders. "You've been a good mother, Salcha."