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Updated: May 14, 2025
Such an eater, it's a wonder he ain't twice too big instead of twice too little for his age." "That's a sign, Abrahm; geniuses, they all eat big. For all we know, he's a genius. I swear to you, Abrahm, all the months before he was born I prayed for it. Each one before they came, I prayed it should be the one. I thought that time the way our Isadore ran after the organ-grinder he would be the one.
Take him, and here you got back his birthday dollar. A feedle! Honest when I think on it a feedle!" Such a rush of outrage seemed fairly to strangle Mr. Kantor that he stood, hand still upraised, choking and inarticulate above the now frankly howling huddle of his son. "Abrahm, you should just once touch this child! How he trembles! Leon mamma's baby what is it?
It shone roundly in his face, doubling of chin, in the bulge of waistcoat, heavily gold-chained, and in eyes that behind the gold-rimmed glasses gave sparklingly forth his estate of well-being. "Abrahm, didn't I tell you not to dare to " On excited balls of feet that fairly bounced him, Abrahm Kantor burst in. "Leon mamma I got out here an old friend Sol Ginsberg.
By some sort of muscular contraction, he could wiggle these ears at will, and would do so for a penny, a whistle, and upon one occasion for his brother Rudolph's dead rat, so devised as to dangle from string and window before the unhappy passer-by. They were quivering now, these ears, but because the entire little face was twitching back tears and gulp of sobs. "Abrahm Leon what is it?"
Fumbling for string and for notes the instrument could not yield up to him, the birdlike mouth began once more to open widely and terribly into the orificial O. It was then Abrahm Kantor came down with a large hollow resonance of palm against the aperture, lifting his small son and depositing him plop upon the family album. "Take that!
Take him and here you got back his birthday dollar. A feedle! Honest when I think on it a feedle!" Such a rush of outrage seemed fairly to strangle Mr. Kantor that he stood, hand still upraised, choking and inarticulate above the now frankly howling huddle of his son. "Abrahm you should just once touch this child! How he trembles!
This is his girl, a five years' contract signed yesterday five hundred dollars an opera for a beginner six roles not bad nu?" "Abrahm, you must ask Mr. Ginsberg please to excuse Leon until after his concert " "Shake hands with him, Ginsberg. He's had his hand shook enough in his life, and by kings, to shake it once more with an old bouncer like you!" Mr.
He's got the papers already drawn up the pen outside waiting " "Abrahm!" "Pa!" In the silence that followed, Isadore Kantor, a poppiness of stare and a violent redness set in, suddenly turned to his five-year-old son, sticky with lollipop, and came down soundly and with smack against the infantile, the slightly outstanding and unsuspecting ear. "Momser!" he cried. "Chammer! Lump! Ganef!
By which Abrahm Kantor, in smiting mother tongue, branded his offspring with attributes of apostate and ne'er-do-well, of idiot and thief. "Abrahm!" "Schlemmil!" repeated Mr. Abrahm, swinging Leon so that he described a large semi-circle that landed him into the meaty and waiting embrace of his mother. "Take him! You should be proud of such a little Momser for a son!
"Papa will go back for the feedle not three dollars she's saved for herself he can holler out of her for a feedle!" "Abrahm, he's screaming so he he'll have a fit." "He should have two fits." "Darlink " "I tell you the way you spoil your children it will some day come back on us." "It's his birthday night, Abrahm five years since his little head first lay on the pillow next to me."
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