or grandson who resembles most your husband'--'and which of
my sons or grandsons is most like my husband Hersh?' 'It is Meir, the
son of Benjamin, who is like him as two grains of sand are like each
other. He is my child, the dearest of all. Freida will tell him the
secret.'"

Meir took both the hands of his great-grandmother in his own, and
covered them with kisses.

"Bobe," he whispered, "Is the writing there?" pointing at the
bookcase. But the old woman still followed the thread of her musings.

"Hersh said to Freida: 'If the elders of the family raise their hands
against him and the people throw stones at him, you, Freida, tell him
the secret. Let him take the writing of the Senior to his heart, and
leave everything, his house and wealth and family, and go forth into
the world; for that writing is more precious than gold and pearls. It
is the covenant of Israel with the Present, which flows like a great
river over their heads and with the nations which tower around him
like great mountains.'"

"Bobe! the elders of the family have risen up against me; the people
have thrown stones at me--I am that dearest grandson of whom your
husband Hersh spoke--tell me, is the writing among those old
volumes?"

A broad, almost triumphant, smile lit up the wrinkled face. She shook
her head with a feeling of secret joy, and whispered:

"Freida has watched over her husband's treasure and guarded it like
her own soul. When she became a widow, Reb Nohim Todros came to her
house and wanted to have the bookcase and the volumes put into the
fire; then Reb Baruch Todros came and wanted to burn the books; but
whenever they came, Freida screened the bookcase with her own body,
and said: 'This is my house, and everything in it is my own.' And
when Freida stood before the bookcase, Freida's sons and grandsons
stood before her and said: 'It is our mother; we will not let her be
harmed.'"

"Reb Nohim was very angry and went away--Reb Isaak did not come,
because he knew from his fathers that as long as Freida lives nobody
touched the old bookcase--Freida has watched over her husband's
treasure; it remains there and sleeps in peace."

With these last words the old woman pointed her thin hand at the
bookcase, which stood not far from her, and a quiet laugh, a laugh of
joy and almost childish triumph, shook her aged breast.

With one bound Meir reached the bookcase, and with a powerful hand
shook the old, rusty lock. The door flew open a