There is a battle royal and a great hullabaloo among the children in the
courtyard.
I hear them shouting "Jew!" and I go to the window and see my little boy
in the front rank of the bandits, screaming, fighting with clenched
fists and without his cap.
I sit down quietly to my work again, certain that he will appear before
long and ease his heart.
And he comes directly after.
He stands still, as is his way, by my side and says nothing. I steal a
glance at him: he is greatly excited and proud and glad, like one who
has fearlessly done his duty.
"What fun you've been having down there!"
"Oh," he says, modestly, "it was only a Jew boy whom we were licking."