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"The children of our colonists speak it as American children do English," said Tevkin, exultingly. "They speak it as the sons and daughters of Jerusalem spoke it at the time of the prophets. We are no dreamers. We can tell the difference between a dream and a hard fact, can't we?" to the other two. "For centuries the tongue of our fathers spoke from the grave to us.
The oldest two sons, Moissey and Sasha, spoke English with a Russian accent from which the English of all the other children was absolutely free. Mrs. Tevkin's Russian sounded more Russian than her husband's. Emil, Elsie, and Gracie did not speak Russian at all Barring Mrs. Tevkin, each adult in the family worshiped at the shrine of some "ism."
As we were passing out of the dining-room and up the stairs Tevkin seized the opportunity to say to me: "We live on the communistic principle, as you see. Each of us, except Mrs. Tevkin and the little one contributes his earnings or part of them to the general treasury, my wife acting as treasurer and manager.
Presently, as we reached the main sidewalk, we were held up by Auntie Yetta, who was apparently returning from one of the cottages across the road "Is this the one you are after?" she demanded of me, with a wink in the direction of Miss Tevkin. And, looking her over, "You do know a good thing when you see it." Then to her: "Hold on to him, young lady. Hold on tight. Mr.
The more they fulminated and fumed and bullied Miss Tevkin the firmer grew my conviction that they had scarcely read the books for which they seemed to be ready to lay down their lives Miss Tevkin, however, took them seriously. She followed them with the air of a "good girl "listening to a lecture by her mother or teacher
I envied him. I felt cheap I felt still cheaper when I heard that the literary liquor-dealer generously contributed to the maintenance of The Pen, the Hebrew weekly with which Tevkin was connected, and that he, the liquor-dealer, wrote for that publication It appeared that Tevkin had an office which was a short distance from the bohemian café. I asked to see it, and he yielded reluctantly
It was half an hour before breakfast-time when I returned to my cottage across the road from the hotel. As I was about to take a chair on the tiny porch I perceived the sunlit figure of Miss Tevkin in the distance. She wore a large sailor hat and I thought it greatly enhanced the effect of her tall figure. She was making her way over a shaky little bridge.
Shortly after that opera night Tevkin provided a box at one of the Jewish theaters for a play by Jacob Gordin I was quite chummy with the girls. They would jokingly call me "Mr. Capitalist" and, despite their father's protests, "bleed" me for all sorts of contributions. One of these came near embroiling me with Moissey.
I must forget I ever did any scribbling." "You are taking it too hard, Mr. Tevkin. One can attend to business and yet find time for writing." All at once he brightened up bashfully and took to reciting a Hebrew poem. Here is the essence of it: "Since the destruction of the Temple instrumental music has been forbidden in the synagogues. The Children of Israel are in mourning.
"Yes, I know what you mean," Miss Siegel assented, somewhat aloofly "People cry for joy," Miss Tevkin put in, non-committally "Yes, but they cry, all the same. There are tears," I urged "I had no idea you were such a cry-baby, Mr. Levinsky," the photographer said. "Perhaps you'll feel better when you've had dinner. But I thought you said this weather made you happy."
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