"

"Mommy darling!"

"Oh--don't, don't! Just let me be. Let me be. O my God! My God!"

"Mommy, please, mommy! I didn't mean it. I didn't mean it, mommy darling."

"I can't go on all the years, Ruby. I'm tired. Tired, girl."

"Of course you can't, darling. We--I don't want you to. 'Shh-h-h!"

"It's only you and my hopes in you that kept me going all these years. The
hope that, with some day a good man to provide for you, I could find a
rest, maybe."

"Yes, yes."

"Every time what I think of that long envelope laying there on that desk
with its lease waiting to be signed to-morrow, I--I could squeeze my eyes
shut so tight and wish I didn't never have to open them again on this--this
house and this drudgery. If you marry wrong, baby, I'm caught. Caught in
this house like a rat in a trap."

"No, no, mommy. Leo, he--his uncle--"

"Don't make me sign that new lease, Ruby. Shulif hounds me every day now.
Any day I expect he says is my last. Don't make me saddle another five
years with the house. He's only a boy, baby, and years it will take,
and--I'm tired, baby. Tired! Tired!" She lay back with her face suddenly
held in rigid lines and her neck ribbed with cords.

At sight of her so prostrate there, Ruby Kaufman grasped the cold face in
her ardent young hands, pressing her lips to the streaming eyes.

"Mommy, I didn't mean it. I didn't! I--We're just kids, flirting a little,
Leo and me. I didn't mean it, mommy!"

"You didn't mean it, Ruby, did you? Tell mama you didn't."

"I didn't, ma. Cross my heart. It's only I--I kinda had him in my head.
That's all, dearie. That's all!"

"He can't provide, baby."

"'Shh-h-h, ma! Try to get calm, and maybe then--then things can come like
you want 'em. 'Shh-h-h, dearie! I didn't mean it. 'Course Leo's only a kid.
I--We--Mommy dear, don't. You're killing me. I didn't mean it. I didn't."

"Sure, baby? Sure?"

"Sure."

"Mama's girl," sobbed Mrs. Kaufman, scooping the small form to her bosom
and relaxing. "Mama's own girl that minds."

They fell quiet, cheek to cheek, staring ahead into the gaslit quiet, the
clock ticking into it.

The tears had dried on Mrs. Kaufman's cheeks, only her throat continuing to
throb and her hand at regular intervals patting the young shoulder pressed
to her. It was as if her heart lay suddenly very still in her breast.

"Mama's own girl that minds."

"It--it's late, ma. Let me pull down the bed."

"You ain't mad at mama, baby? It's fo