“Yum! A juicy pear, freshly picked off the tree! I get first dibs, of course, once it’s washed. It was my idea, after all”
“Take a look at that,” observed Fishel. “A ripe, yellow pear, on Mr. Krankowitz’s tree — at this time of year, too! Wonder if he’d let us have it for Tu B’Shevat.”
“Let’s ask him,” Faivish replied promptly. “It looks really juicy and delicious.”
The brothers went to ring Mr. Krankowitz’s doorbell. It took three tries. The third time they pressed the bell for a whole minute, as the old man was rather hard of hearing.
“No need to keep your finger on the bell for so long!” the old man grumbled as he opened the door. “Just give a short ring, that’s all.”
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