"You'd give away the shirt off your skin to a pack of good-for-nothing _Schnorrers_." "Yes, if they had only their skin in the world.

Why not ?" said the old Rabbi, a pacific gleam in his large gazelle-like eyes.

"Perhaps my coat may have the honor to cover Elijah the prophet." "Elijah the prophet!" snorted Simcha.

"Elijah has sense enough to stay in heaven and not go wandering about shivering in the fog and frost of this God-accursed country." The old Rabbi answered, "Atschew!" "For thy salvation do I hope, O Lord," murmured Simcha piously in Hebrew, adding excitedly in English, "Ah, you'll kill yourself, Shemuel." She rushed upstairs and returned with another coat and a new terror.
"Here, you fool, you've been and done a fine thing this time! All your silver was in the coat you've given away!" "Was it ?" said Reb Shemuel, startled.

Then the tranquil look returned to his brown eyes.