her's name with an altogether cunning little catch, bade a joyous
good-by to their friends and set their faces hopefully toward the West.
Once they were together, all their troubles would be at an end.

In the poor tenement the peddler lay awake till far into the night,
hearkening to the noises of the street. He had gone hungry to bed, and he
was too tired to sleep. Over and over he counted the many miles of stormy
ocean and the days to their coming, Sarah and the little Judah. Once they
were together, he would work, work, work--and should they not make a
living in the great, wealthy city?

With the dawn lighting up the eastern sky he slept the sleep of
exhaustion, his question unanswered.

That was six years ago--six hard, weary years. They had worked together,
he at his push-cart, Sarah for the sweater, earning a few cents finishing
"pants" when she could. Little Judah did his share, pulling thread, until
his sister came and he had to mind her. Together they had kept a roof
overhead, and less and less to eat, till Judah had to give up his cart.
Between the fierce competition and the police blackmail it would no longer
keep body and soul together for its owner. A painter in the next house was
in need of a hand, and Judah apprenticed himself to him for a dollar a
day. If he could hold out a year or two, he might earn journeyman's wages
and have steady work. The boss saw that he had an eye for the business.
But, though Judah's eye was good, he lacked the "strong stomach" which is
even more important to a painter. He had starved so long that the smell of
the paint made him sick and he could not work fast enough. So the boss
discharged him. "The sheeny was no good," was all the character he gave
him.

It was then the twins came. There was not a penny in the house, and the
rent money was long in arrears. Judah went out and asked for work. He
sought no alms; he begged merely for a chance to earn a living at any
price, any wages. Nobody wanted him, as was right and proper, no doubt.
To underbid the living wage is even a worse sin against society than to
"debase its standard of living," we are told by those who should know.
Judah Kapelowitz was only an ignorant Jew, pleading for work that he might
earn bread for his starving babies. He knew nothing of standards, but he
would have sold his soul for a loaf of bread that day. He found no one to
pay the price, and he came home hungry as he had gone out. In the
afternoon the lan