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Updated: May 28, 2025
I could potch him again this minute for how he wanted it! Du you little bum you Chammer Momser I'll feedle you!" Across Mrs. Kantor's face as she knelt there in the shapeless cotton-stuff uniform of poverty, through the very tenement of her body, a light had flashed up into her eyes.
"Hush it!" cried Mr. Kantor, his free hand raised in threat of descent and cowering his small son to still more undersized proportions. "Hush it, or, by golly, I'll " "Abrahm Abrahm what is it?" Then Mr. Kantor gave vent in acridity of word and feature. "Schlemmil!" he cried. "Momser! Ganef! Nebich!"
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 lollypop, and came down soundly and with smack against the infantile, the slightly outstanding, and unsuspecting ear. "Momser!" he cried. "Chammer! Lump! Ganef! You hear that? Two thousand! Two thousand!
I could potch him again this minute for how he wanted it! Du you little bum you chammer momser I'll feedle you!" Across Mrs. Kantor's face, as she knelt there in the shapeless cotton-stuff uniform of poverty, through the very tenement of her body, a light had flashed up into her eyes.
Nebich!" by which, in smiting mother tongue, he branded his offspring with attributes of apostate and ne'er-do-well, of idiot and thief. "Abrahm!" "Schlemmil!" repeated Mr. Kantor, swinging Leon so that he described a large semicircle 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!
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!
"Hush it!" cried Mr. Kantor, his free hand raised in threat of descent, and cowering his small son to still more undersized proportions. "Hush it or, by golly! I'll " "Abrahm Abrahm what is it?" Then Mr. Kantor gave vent in acridity of word and feature. "Schlemmil!" he cried. "Momser! 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!
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