inued
her scrubbing.

"_Ut_!" exclaimed Hanneh Breineh, irritated at her neighbor's silence,
"what are you tearing up the world with your cleaning? What's the use to
clean up when everything only gets dirty again?"

"I got to shine up my house for the holidays."

"You've got it so good nothing lays on your mind but to clean your
house. Look on this little blood-sucker," said Hanneh Breineh, pointing
to the wizened child, made prematurely solemn from starvation and
neglect. "Could anybody keep that brat clean? I wash him one minute, and
he is dirty the minute after." Little Sammy grew frightened and began to
cry. "Shut up!" ordered the mother, picking up the child to nurse it
again. "Can't you see me take a rest for a minute?"

The hungry child began to cry at the top of its weakened lungs.

_"Na, na_, you glutton." Hanneh Breineh took out a dirty pacifier from
her pocket and stuffed it into the baby's mouth. The grave, pasty-faced
infant shrank into a panic of fear, and chewed the nipple nervously,
clinging to it with both his thin little hands.

"For what did I need yet the sixth one?" groaned Hanneh Breineh, turning
to Mrs. Pelz. "Wasn't it enough five mouths to feed? If I didn't have
this child on my neck, I could turn myself around and earn a few cents."
She wrung her hands in a passion of despair. "_Gottuniu!_ the earth
should only take it before it grows up!"

"Pshaw! Pshaw!" reproved Mrs. Pelz. "Pity yourself on the child. Let it
grow up already so long as it is here. See how frightened it looks on
you." Mrs. Pelz took the child in her arms and petted it. "The poor
little lamb! What did it done you should hate it so?"

Hanneh Breineh pushed Mrs. Pelz away from her.

"To whom can I open the wounds of my heart?" she moaned. "Nobody has
pity on me. You don't believe me, nobody believes me until I'll fall
down like a horse in the middle of the street. _Oi weh!_ mine life is so
black for my eyes. Some mothers got luck. A child gets run over by a
car, some fall from a window, some burn themselves up with a match, some
get choked with diphtheria; but no death takes mine away."

"God from the world! stop cursing!" admonished Mrs. Pelz. "What do you
want from the poor children? Is it their fault that their father makes
small wages? Why do you let it all out on them?" Mrs. Pelz sat down
beside Hanneh Breineh. "Wait only till your children get old enough to
go to the shop and earn money," she consoled. "Push only