Mother and Son
handmade box and a pillow. She sets the box on the table and solicitously arranges the pillow behind Malkele.)
Malkele (tenderly)
Why are you so hot, Gitele?
Gitele (her face flaming up, puts her hands to her cheeks—confused)
Who, I? I don’t know, I suppose it is from the kitchen. The stove is so hot.
Malkele
Why do you stand near the stove? How many times have I told you not to do it?
Gitele (fussing nervously with the pillow)
It is already late. Aaron will soon be home to dinner, and it won’t be ready.
Malkele
And did you have your walk?
Gitele (placing a foot-stool under Malkele’s fect)
No, I didn’t have any time.
Malkele
What a disobedient child you are! You watched by me for forty-eight hours and now you sit still in the house. You may, God forbid, get sick. Then you’ll have it!
Gitele (who has finished adjusting the foot-stool)
Who, I—sick? Ha-ha-ha! (She stands very erect and spreads both arms out broad.) Just let the bobbe’she look at me! Do I look sick?
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