The town dogs howled strangely. Evidently the wedding in the cemetery had not yet driven away the Angel of Death. From some of the neighboring houses came a dreadful crying and screaming of women and children. Malkeh the orphan heard nothing. She slept sweetly, and snored as loud (I beg to distinguish!) as Caspar, the tall, stout miller, the owner of both mills. Yitzchok-Yossel Broitgeber sits on the little barrel, looks at her face, and thinks. Her face is dark, roughened, and nearly like that of an old woman. A great, fat fly knocked against the wick, the candle suddenly began to burn brighter, and Yitzchok-Yossel saw her face become prettier, younger, and fresher, and overspread by a smile. That was all the effect of the supper and the soft bed. Then it was that he had promised himself, that he had sworn, once and for all, to show the Kabtzonivke Jews who he is, and then Malkeh the orphan will have food and a bed every day. He would have done this long ago, had it not been for those trousers. The people are so silly, they don't understand! That is the whole misfortune! And it's quite the other way about: let someone else try and turn out such an ingenious contrivance! But because it was he, and not someone else, they laughed and made fun of him. How Reb Yecheskel, his wife and children, did abuse him! That was his reward for all his trouble. And just because they themselves are cattle, horses, boors, who don't understand the tailor's art! Ha, if only they understood that tailoring is a noble, refined calling, limitless and bottomless as (with due distinction!) the holy Torah! But all is not lost. Who knows? For here comes Binyomin Droibnik, an intelligent man, a man of brains and feeling. And think how many years he has been a trader! A retail trader, certainly, a jobber, but still-- "Come, Reb Yitzchok-Yossel, make an end! What will you turn it into?" "Everything." "That is to say?" "A dressing-gown for your Dvoshke,--" "And then?" "A morning-gown with tassels,--" "After that?" "A coat." "Well?" "A dress--" "And besides that?" "A pair of trousers and a jacket--" "Nothing more?" "Why not? A--" "For instance?" "Pelisse, a wadded winter pelisse for you." "There, there! Just that, and only that!" said Reb Binyomin, delighted. Yitzchok-Yossel Broitgeber tucked away the quilt under his arm, and was preparing to be off. "Reb Yitzchok-Yossel! And what about taking my measure? And how about your charge?" Yitzchok-Yossel dearly loved to take anyone's measure, and was an expert at so doing. He had soon pulled a fair-sized sheet of paper out of one of his deep pockets, folded it into a long paper stick, and begun to measure Reb Binyomin Droibnik's limbs. He did not even omit to note the length and breadth of his feet. "What do you want with that? Are you measuring me for trousers?" "Ett, don't you ask! No need to teach a skilled workman his trade!" "And what about the charge?" "We shall settle that later."