I was called Mouse and Crumb and Poppy Seed.
Should I live to be called, in my old age, Mashke the Short?
I longed to measure my stature by Leah's, and here was my chance.
I ran out into the street, my grandmother scolding me for going without a shawl, and I calling back to her to be sure and watch me.

I skipped over the ice blocks like a goat, and offered my assistance to Leah the Short.

With admirable skill and solicitude I guided her timid steps across the street, at the same time winking to my grandmother at the window, and pointing to my shoulder close to Leah's.

Once on the safe sidewalk, the tiny woman thanked me and blessed me and praised me for a thoughtful child; and I watched her toddle away without the least stir of shame at my hypocrisy.

She had convinced me that I was a good little girl, and I had convinced myself that I was not so very short.