“I’ll tell you the truth,” she asserted, with a serious mien. “If I had been your employer I wouldn’t have let you darken my door. Even if I knew that I’d make millions from you.” He made no reply, working the treadle faster than before, and waiting for Chyenke to continue. “It won’t be like that in our shop,” she added. “Certainly not,” he hastened to agree. “We’ll deal differently with our employés.” “Differently or not differently,” she replied, “if anybody tries such tricks with us, we’ll take him by the collar right away and down the stairs he goes!” “That’s merely what you say....” “And that’s exactly how it’ll be,” she answered with the same gravity as before. “If I’m a boss, then I must be a boss. I know. I’ve worked for bosses, too, and have quarrelled with them. And you may be sure that they were in the wrong. But to fight just for the fun of it! I’d like to see them try it!” “It couldn’t happen in our place,” he said. “I’ll yield to them in everything.” “What do you mean, yield to them in everything?” Her voice rose slightly. “Bah! Not even a hair’s breadth! Why should I treat people better than I myself was treated?” Drabkin turned pale. His hand trembled. “We’ll see about that,” he answered weakly. He restrained himself, but his blood was boiling. “What shall we see, what?” asked Chyenke. “I certainly won’t treat my employés any better than I was treated. Why should I give in to them? Let them walk all over me?” He was silent. He was already infuriated, but strove to choke back his words. He applied himself industriously to his work and did not utter another sound, although it was a long time before Chyenke stopped talking.... That night he ran to Chashke. He repeated the conversation to her. “Did you ever hear such talk?” he cried, as he finished his story. “Chyenke is as right as the day,” interposed the old woman. “Did you ever hear such talk?” he repeated, looking into Chashke’s eyes. “Well?” she queried, coldly. “What do you mean, ‘Well?’” he shouted. “What do you mean by your ‘Well?’” “What do you expect? Everybody to agree with you?” “What do you mean, everybody to agree with me? What do you mean?” he gesticulated. “Isn’t she engaged to me?” “But you each have minds of your own and hearts of your own,” replied Chashke. “He’d like his betrothed to be as stupid as himself,” the old woman chimed in. “But why? How comes it that you understand?” he insisted to Chashke. “She always was a big fool,” the mother replied. But the daughter blushed, and was silent. “Then why shouldn’t she?” persisted Drabkin, referring to his betrothed. “Well——” interrupted Chashke. He was at a loss for a plausible response. “Well, speak, what is it you wish?” “What should I wish? I don’t wish anything,” he snarled indignantly. He left the house in silent anger. He had wanted her to help him feel angry, to be beside himself with rage as usual....