The widow’s eyes flashed, and she drew herself up to her full height. She stood there, seething in anger and hurt
Fischel began to rise from his chair, his hand already sliding to the purse of money lying before him on the desk.
“No, no, Father. I will get the door for you.”
Zissy went quickly to the door and opened it. It was the widow who had accepted Zissy’s old clothes. She pushed past Zissy. She was still carrying some of Zissy’s old clothes.
“Where’s your father? I am absolutely freezing in my home. I have no firewood! He said he would help me out, but the money he gave me wasn’t enough. Please bring your father to me immediately before I freeze to death!”
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