She started to listen to Gitl's report with a fierce mien which gradually thawed into a sage smile. When the young neighbour had rested her case, she first nodded her head, as who should say, "What fools this young generation be!" and then burst out: "Do you know what _I_ have to tell you? Guess!" Gitl thought Heaven knows what revelations awaited her. "That you are a lump of horse and a greenhorn and nothing else!" (Gitl felt much relieved.) "That piece of ugliness should _try_ and come to _my_ house! Then she would know the price of a pound of evil. I should open the door and--_march_ to eighty black years! Let her go to where she came from! America is not Russia, thanked be the Lord of the world. Here one must only know how to handle a husband. Here a husband must remember '_ladas foist_'--but then you do not even know what that means!" she exclaimed, with a despairing wave of her hand. "What does it mean?" Gitl inquired, pensively. "What does it mean? What should it mean? It means but too well, _never min'_. It means that when a husband does not _behabe_ as he should, one does not stroke his cheeks for it. A prohibition upon me if one does. If the wife is no greenhorn she gets him shoved into the oven, over there, across the river." "You mean they send him to prison?" "Where else--to the theatre?" Mrs. Kavarsky mocked her furiously. "A weeping to me!" Gitl said, with horror. "May God save me from such things!" In due course Mrs. Kavarsky arrived at the subject of head-gear, and for the third or fourth time she elicited from her pupil a promise to discard the kerchief and to sell the wig. "No wonder he does hate you, seeing you in that horrid rag, which makes a grandma of you. Drop it, I tell you! Drop it so that no survivor nor any refugee is left of it. If you don't obey me this time, dare not cross my threshold any more, do you hear?" she thundered. "One might as well talk to the wall as to her!" she proceeded, actually addressing herself to the opposite wall of her kitchen, and referring to her interlocutrice in the third person. "I am working and working for her, and here she appreciates it as much as the cat. Fie!" With which the irate lady averted her face in disgust. "I shall take it off; now for sure--as sure as this is Wednesday," said Gitl, beseechingly. Mrs. Kavarsky turned back to her pacified.