e a good boy, and you'll be good to our baby.
Even if she ain't got it so grand, she's got a good husband--that's more
than Meena Ginsburg's got."

"Run along, you children," said Mr. Katzenstein. "Here, Marcus, put a
cigar in your pocket--one of Goldstein's ten-cent specials."

"I don't smoke, paw," said Marcus.

He went out, his arm linked in Birdie's. Their laughter drifted
backward.

Mrs. Katzenstein resumed her chair in the warm glow of the logs--her
full face, with the scallop of double chin, was suddenly old and lined;
her husband drew up his curved-back rocker beside her.

"Mamma, you shouldn't take on so. Everything comes for the best."

"You can talk, papa! Now I had even told Mrs. Ginsburg for sure she
should have one of those Ninety-sixth Street apartments."

"You women folks make me sick! You should be glad we got our health,
mamma, and good men for our girls."

"I guess you're right, papa. He's a grand young man!"

"A good boy--_ach_, how tired I am!"

"Stretch out your feet, papa. It's warm by the fire."

The light flickered over their faces and sent long shadows wavering and
dancing back of them.

Mr. Katzenstein settled deeper in his chair; his head, bald on top and
with a fringe of bristles over the ears, was hunched down between his
shoulders.

"You've been a good mother, Salcha."

"Not such a mother as you've been a father--me and them girls never
wanted for one thing, even when you couldn't afford it as now."

"Ah--ho!" sighed Mr. Katzenstein.

"You're tired, papa, and it's late. Here, I'll unlace your shoes for
you."

"No; in a minute I go to bed--such a back-ache!"

"She's got a good man; and, like you say, that's the main thing,"
repeated Mrs. Katzenstein, intent on self-conviction. "It ain't always
the money."

"_Ya, ya!_" said Mr. Katzenstein.

"Look at us when we was down on Grand Street! We was happy--You remember
that green-plush dress I had, papa?"

"Yes, Salcha."

"Don't go to sleep sitting there, papa; you'll take cold."

Mr. Katzenstein's fingers, that were never straight, closed over the
veined back of his wife's hand.

"In a minute I go to bed."

"If she had known what was coming when he asked her last night it might
be different; but now it's too late, and everything is for the best."

"Yes, mamma."

"She's happy--and that's the main thing."

"Time flies," he said, with his eyes on the flames. "Only yesterday she
was a baby!"

"Ain't it so, papa