of the
huts leaning against the walls, pale, thin, drowsy, with widely
opened mouths, as though they wished to breathe into their sickly,
cold breasts the warm rays of the sun and the fresh breeze of the
morning.

Meir approached one of these youths.

"Nu, Lejbele," said he, "I have come to see you. Are you always sick
and looking like an owl?"

It was evident that Lejbele was ill and moping, for, with hands
folded in the sleeves of his miserable halat, and pressed to his
chest, he was shivering with cold, although the morning was warm; he
did not answer Meir, but opened his mouth and great, dull, dark eyes
more widely, and looked idiotically at the young man.

Meir laid his band on the boy's head.

"Were you in the heder yesterday?" he asked. The boy began to tremble
still more, and answered in a hoarse voice:

"Aha."

This meant an affirmative.

"Were you beaten again?"

Tears filled the boy's dark eyes, which remained raised to the face
of the tall young man.

"They beat me," he said.

His breast began to heave with sobs under the sleeves of the halat,
which were still pressed by the boy's folded bands.

"Have you breakfasted?"

The boy shook his head in the negative.

Meir took from the nearest huckster's stand a big hala (loaf of
bread), for which he threw a copper coin to the old woman. He then
gave the bread to the child. Lejbele seized it in both bands, and
began to devour it rapaciously. At that moment a tall, thin, lithe
man rushed out from the cabin. He wore a black beard, and bad an old,
sorrowful face. He threw himself toward Meir. First be seized his
band and raised it to his lips, and then began to reproach him.

"Morejne!" he exclaimed, "why did you give him that hala? He is a
stupid, nasty child. He don't want to study, and brings shame upon
me. The melamed--may he live a hundred years--takes a great deal of
trouble to teach him; but he has a head which does not understand
anything. The melamed beats him, and I beat him, too, in order that
the learning shall enter his head, but it does not help at all. He is
an alejdyc gejer (lazy)--a donkey!"

Meir looked at the boy, who was still devouring the bread.

"Schmul," said he, "he is neither lazy nor a donkey, but he is sick."

Schmul waved his hand contemptuously.

"He is sick," shouted he. "He began to be sick when he was told to
study. Before that he was healthy, gay, and intelligent. Ah, what an
intelligent and pretty child he