ince his wife, my mother, that is, was the only daughter of
"_Reb_" Anshel, the sofa belonged, by right, to her. But all this
happened long ago. And as the sofa has remained in our house, this was a
proof that it was our sofa. And our two aunts interfered, my aunt Etka,
and my aunt Zlatka. They began to invent scandals and to carry tales
from one house to another. It was sofa and sofa, and nothing else but
sofa! The town rocked, all because of the sofa. However, to make a long
story short, the sofa remained our sofa.

This same sofa was an ordinary wooden sofa covered with a thin veneer.
This veneer had come unloosened in many places and was split up. It had
now a number of small mounds. And the upper layer of the veneer which
had come unloosened was of the real cedar wood--the wood of which
fiddles are made. At least, that is what I was told at school. The sofa
had one fault, and this fault was, in reality, a good quality. For
instance, when one sat on it one could not get up off it again because
it stood a little on the slant. One side was higher than the other, and
in the middle there was a hole. And the good thing about our sofa was
that no one wanted to sit on it, and it was put away in a corner, to one
side, in compulsory retirement.

It was on this sofa that I had cast my eyes, to make a fiddle out of the
cedar wood veneer. A bow I had already provided myself with, long ago. I
had a comrade, Shimalle Yudel, the car-owner's son. He promised me a few
hairs from the tail of his father's horse. And resin to smear the bow
with I had myself. I hated to depend on miracles. I got the resin from
another friend of mine, Mayer-Lippa, Sarah's son, for a bit of steel
from my mother's old crinoline which had been knocking about in the
attic. Out of this piece of steel, Mayer Lippa afterwards made himself a
little knife. It is true when I saw the knife I wanted him to change
back again with me. But he would not have it. He began to shout:

"A clever fellow that! What do you say to him! I worked hard for three
whole nights. I sharpened and sharpened and cut all my fingers
sharpening, and now he comes and wants me to change back again with
him!"

"Just look at him!" I cried. "Well then, it won't be! A great bargain
for you--a little bit of steel! Isn't there enough steel knocking about
in our attic? There will be enough for our children, and our children's
children even."

Anyway, I had everything that was necessary. And the