Uh-oh. It was Mr. Krankowitz. Any minute now, the old man would bang on their door to complain to their father
“The ball hardly touched it, and it broke. It must be defective,” argued Fishel.
“A pot shouldn’t break from one tiny little touch,” echoed Faivish. “It wasn’t our fault.”
But their parents had been unmoved. Now the troublesome two were looking out of their bedroom window, bored. Moishy Morris’s big sister Leah came into sight, lugging a bag of books home from Sem.
“Oh my, look at all those books,” remarked Fishel.
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