368 S. LIBIN
and he read only Yiddish a quiet, respectable man, I might almost say the only hand in the shop who never grudged a fellow-worker his livelihood. He had been only a year in the country, and the others made sport of him, but I always stood up for him, because I liked him very much.
Wherever does he go, now? I wondered to myself, and I resolved to find out.
Next morning I met Manasseh as usual, and at first I intended to tell him of his wife's visit to me the day before; but the poor operative looked so low- spirited, so thoroughly unhappy, that I felt sure his wife had already given him the promised "lesson," and I hadn't the courage to mention her to him just then.
In the evening, as we were going home from the workshop, Manasseh said to me :
"Did my wife come to see you yesterday?"
"Yes, Brother Manasseh," I answered. "She seemed something annoyed with you."
"She has a dreadful temper," observed the workman. "When she is really angry, she's fit to kill a man. But it's her bitter heart, poor thing she's had so many troubles! We're so poor, and she's far away from her family."
Manasseh gave a deep sigh.
"She asked you where I go other days after work?" he continued.
"Yes."
"Would you like to know ?"
"Why not, Mister Gricklin !"
"Come along a few blocks further," said Manasseh, "and I'll show you."
