“And there won’t be any third!” Aunt Bertha grinned maliciously.
“No,” he acquiesced obediently. And then as if to reassure himself, “We’re not married yet, no?”
“Pooh!”
“What was the matter with your mother?” David’s mother asked after a pause.
Mr. Sternowitz, slice of bread in one hand had begun slowly and aimlessly to fish in his vest pockets with the other. “No one knew. The doctors” he shrugged, drew out a pearl-handled pen-knife, “they didn’t know.” His eyes met Aunt Bertha’s. Her severe scowl swept down from his face to the knife. With an oddly remote movement, his neck bent stiffly and he stared at the knife also, turning it round and round as though he had never seen it before. “Er! They didn’t know!” And sighing, “Woe me! A fearful life!” He dropped the knife back into his pocket and bit off too large a mouthful so that speech was engulfed in an oozy palatal smacking.
Aunt Bertha suddenly smiled, fondly, benevolently. “Champ it down, Nathan, my star, then you can tell what happened — or shall I?”
His temples bulging, Mr. Sternowitz chewed faster and shook his head hurriedly. He meant to speak.
“It was this way,” Aunt Bertha ignored him. “He’ll make a yarn of it as long as an ant climbing a mountain. His mother was going blind and so when the doctors couldn’t cure her, his father took her to a rabbi and he cured her. No, Nathan?”
“Yes.” Mr. Sternowitz swallowed glumly.
“Who was the rabbi they took her to?” asked David’s mother.
Mr. Sternowitz cheered up. “Not one of those polite, wellbred rabbis, have no fear. Is it right,” he turned to David’s father for approval, “that a rabbi should allow Russian officers to visit his daughters? Or that they should be ‘fency pipple’ and not wear white socks and high shoes and trim their beards and their ringlets. Ha? No!” He seemed to interpret the other man’s steady gaze. “That’s what I believe. The more ‘fency’ they become, the less of God’s power do they have. Reb Leibish, this rabbi, was so pious that he made his wife turn over the whole day’s receipts to charity. He would keep no money over-night — not even a kopek. Not Reb Leibish! He hated the joys of life. He never accepted the Thursday invitation for the sabbath. He fasted twice a week. That’s what I call a rabbi! And when my father brought her to him, he didn’t say, Go home, I’ll pray to God for a remedy. No. He had God by his side. He said to my father, Let her go! Take your hands away! And then he said, Come here, my daughter! And she said, Where? I can’t see! And he cried out. Look at me! Open your eyes! The Almighty gives you light! And she opened her eyes and she saw! That’s a rabbi!”
“How well she must have seen,” Aunt Bertha patted her mouth vigorously — the sign of expiation for mockery, “if she gave you vinegar instead of sugar-water.”
“Not all at once,” Mr. Sternowitz protested. “But little by little, she saw. When I left Pskov she could see fairly well, but she squinted and — Look!” he laughed and pointed at David. “Look how he’s staring at me. Isn’t that wonderful?”
David ducked his head in intense embarrassment. It was true. Without knowing why he had been strangely stirred by Mr. Sternowitz’s short narrative. He had been staring at him, hoping he would go on. But now he suddenly felt ashamed, feeling all eyes upon him and especially his father’s. He stared down at his plate.
“Do you want to ask me something?” Mr. Sternowitz inquired indulgently.
“No.”
“Sweet Golem with the big eyes!” his aunt teased. “You’ll have to get him a pair of leggins, Nathan. Winter is coming.”
“Indeed, yes! I’ll steal a pair and finish them at home. We must get his size. Such a quiet, quiet child!” he nodded approvingly. “Like—” His glance veered for a moment to David’s father and then retreated hastily to Aunt Bertha again. “Like my daughters,” he said jocularly. “No, Bertha?”
“To the dot!” was her derisive answer. “But they’ll mind me, don’t forget that.”
“What else!” he grinned. “Just as they mind me? How old is he, did you say?”
“This one?” His mother patted his head. “Seven and a few months.”
“He’s well grown, no evil eye!” he dropped his fork and knocked on the table. “Mine are ten and eleven and they’re no taller. Perhaps we’ll match him with one of mine yet.”
“Speaking of matches,” Aunt Bertha suddenly placed a warning finger across her lips. “Nothing must be said to the ‘dentistka’, do you hear, Nathan? Else she’ll sniff around for a marriage-broker’s bounty. A turd I’ll give her!”
“Have you reached that stage already?” her sister laughed. “May joy go with you then.”
“I?” Mr. Sternowitz put out his palms. “I haven’t reached it. She’s reached it — headlong!”
“Is that so?” Aunt Bertha bridled. “Didn’t you tell me last night you were already looking for a candy-store — in a good location — at a corner maybe — and at a reasonable price — and for me! Didn’t you? If you think I’m yanking you too hard toward the canopy, then don’t have Rachel’s engagement ring reset. Pooh I can wait!” The scattering motion of her hand scattered Mr. Sternowitz away. “He’s like all men. He thinks first of how he can use you, then in good time when he’s going to marry you. You can’t have the one without the other with me.”
“Wait! Wait!” Mr. Sternowitz halted her. “What have I said that you burn so! I said that we didn’t hold the yard-stick at a marriage yet. I meant we weren’t engaged yet, that’s all. I was thinking that if I gave you a ring—”
“If you give me the ring!” Aunt Bertha wagged her head mockingly.
“When I give you the ring then! When I give you the ring it will be better that you take it off before going to the dentist’s, you understand? There won’t be any trouble and nobody’ll speak through the nose and we’ll save fifty dollars.”
“Now you’re talking like a sage!” said Aunt Bertha approvingly. “Why didn’t you say that in the first place?”
“Well,” said Mr. Sternowitz uncomfortably. “Only give me room to breathe!”
“Have you found a candy-store that suits you?” asked David’s mother. “I mean have you any in mind?”
“No, not yet.” Mr. Sternowitz replied. “I really haven’t begun to look for them seriously — naturally. But now I will. I know something about them. My cousin had one and I spent whole nights there. There’s only one trouble. Most candy-stores have only two rooms in the back. That’s all right for two people. But we — I mean I — have two children. They’re with my sister now. So when I take them to live with me we’ll need at least three rooms.”
“It’s going to be a hard life,” David’s mother shook her head, “living in the back of a store that way. The hurry and the noise! Wouldn’t it be better to get rooms somewhere else? In the same house, perhaps?”
“If we live somewhere else,” said Mr. Sternowitz, “there go half of the profits. Why throw away money on rent when you can get it free? A place to sleep in is all we need — and a place to eat a breakfast and a supper.”
“I don’t care where we live,” said Aunt Bertha, “as long as we make money. Money, cursed money! What if it is a little uncomfortable. I never refused pot-roast because it got between my teeth. Now is the time to save. Later when we’ve sold the store and made a little money, we’ll talk again.”
“That’s what I think also,” Mr. Sternowitz rubbed his hands.
“Well, hurry to the jeweler then!” She rocked back and forth dreamily. “A little while we’ll struggle; we’ll pee in the dark. And then we’ll have a home. And when we’ll have a home we’ll have a decent home. Thick furniture with red legs such as I see in the store windows. Everything covered with glass. Handsome chandeliers! A phonograph! We’ll work our way up! ‘Stimm hitt’ like bosses! What bliss to wake up in the morning without chilling the marrow! A white sink! A toilet inside! A bath-tub! A genuine bath-tub for my suffering hide in July! A bathtub! Not that radish grate there,” she pointed to the washtubs. “Everytime I take a bath, it stamps a cluster of cherries on my rump!”