e shriek.

'Henry!' she cried.

Fork in hand, he darted in from the living-room, but came to a sudden
standstill.

'What do you want here?' he muttered.

'Fanny's shoes!' she cried.

'Who is it?' his wife's eyes demanded.

'A half-witted creature we deal with out of charity,' he gestured
back. And he put her inside the room-door, whispering, 'Let me get rid
of her.'

'So, that's your painted poppet,' hissed his mother-in-law in Yiddish.

'Painted?' he said angrily. 'Madge painted? She's just as natural as a
rosy apple. She's a country girl, and her mother was a lady.'

'Her mother? Perhaps! But she? You see a glossy high hat marked
sixteen and sixpence, and you think it's new. But I know what it's
come from--a battered thing that has rolled in the gutter. Ah, how she
could have bewitched you, when there are so many honest Jewesses
without husbands!

'I am sorry she doesn't please you; but, after all, it's my business,
and not yours.'

'Not mine? After I gave you my Fanny, and she slaved for you and bore
you children?'

'It's just for her children that I had to marry.'

'What? You had to marry a Christian for the sake of Fanny's children?
Oh, God forgive you!'

'We are not in Poland now,' he said sulkily.

'Ah, I always said you were a sinner in Israel. My Fanny has been
taken for your sins. A black death on your bones.'

'If you don't leave off cursing, I shall call a policeman.'

'Oh, lock me up, lock me up--instead of your shame. Let the whole
world know that.'

'Go away, then. You have no right to come here and frighten Madge--my
wife. She is in delicate health, as it is.'

'May she be an atonement for all of us! I have the right to come here
as much as I please.'

'You have no right.'

'I have a right to the children. My blood is in their veins.'

'You have no right. The children are their father's.'

'Yes, their Father's in heaven,' and she raised her hand like an
ancient prophetess, while the other supported her bag over her
shoulder. 'The children are the children of Israel, and they must
carry forward the yoke of the Law.'

'And what do you propose?' he said, with a scornful sniff.

'Give me the children. I will elevate them in the fear of the Lord.
You go your own godless way, free of burdens--you and your Christian
poppet. You no longer belong to us. Give me the children, and I'll go
away.'

He looked at her quizzingly. 'You have been drinking, my good
mother-in-law.'

'A