er and I was trembling
like a leaf.

"It's only walking into another room," she said.

Moira sat beside him, his hand in hers, pleading with her eyes. He
turned to Mis' MacFarland--"You make her understand," he said, "we all
have to wait our turn. You make her understand that we're all the same."

And we knew that he was talking about life and death. And then, as I
watched, I saw the life of him was ebbing out and saw that Moira knew
it. And then he was gone, just like the slow turning out of a light.

Moira turned to Mis' MacFarland and looked at her, and then I saw she'd
gotten to the other side of grief, to where Mis' MacFarland was--to the
place where there wasn't any death.

"THE FAT OF THE LAND"[21]

[Note 21: Copyright, 1919, by The Century Company. Copyright, 1920,
by Anzia Yezierska.]

BY ANZIA YEZIERSKA

From _The Century_

In an air-shaft so narrow that you could touch the next wall with your
bare hands, Hanneh Breineh leaned out and knocked on her neighbor's
window.

"Can you loan me your wash-boiler for the clothes?" she called.

Mrs. Pelz threw up the sash.

"The boiler? What's the matter with yours again? Didn't you tell me you
had it fixed already last week?"

"A black year on him, the robber, the way he fixed it! If you have no
luck in this world, then it's better not to live. There I spent out
fifteen cents to stop up one hole, and it runs out another. How I ate
out my gall bargaining with him he should let it down to fifteen cents!
He wanted yet a quarter, the swindler. _Gottuniu!_ my bitter heart on
him for every penny he took from me for nothing!"

"You got to watch all those swindlers, or they'll steal the whites out
of your eyes," admonished Mrs. Pelz. "You should have tried out your
boiler before you paid him. Wait a minute till I empty out my dirty
clothes in a pillow-case; then I'll hand it to you."

Mrs. Pelz returned with the boiler and tried to hand it across to Hanneh
Breineh, but the soap-box refrigerator on the window-sill was in the
way.

"You got to come in for the boiler yourself," said Mrs. Pelz.

"Wait only till I tie my Sammy on to the high-chair he shouldn't fall on
me again. He's so wild that ropes won't hold him."

Hanneh Breineh tied the child in the chair, stuck a pacifier in his
mouth, and went in to her neighbor. As she took the boiler Mrs. Pelz
said:

"Do you know Mrs. Melker ordered fifty pounds of chicken for her
daughter's wedding? And su