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For a long time Berl was unable to utter a sound. Then he asked, "Are you Samuel?"
"Yes, Father, I am Samuel. "
"Well, peace be with you. " Berl grasped his son's hand. He was still not sure that he was not being fooled. Samuel wasn't as tall and heavy as this man, but then Berl reminded himself that Samuel was only fifteen years old when he had left home. Berl asked, "Why didn't you let us know that you were coming?"
"Didn't you receive my cable?" Samuel asked.
Berl did not know what a cable was.
Berlcha had scraped the dough from her hands and enfolded her son.
"I never thought I could live to see this. Now, I am happy to die," Berlcha said. Berl was amazed. These were just the words he could have said earlier. After a while Berl came to himself and said, "Pescha, you will have to make a double Sabbath pudding in addition to the stew."
It was years since Berl had called Berlcha by her given name. Only now did Berlcha begin to cry. Yellow tears ran from her eyes, and everything became dim. Then she called out, "It's Friday—I have to prepare for the Sabbath." Yes, she had to knead the dough for the loaves. With such a guest, she had to make a larger Sabbath stew. The winter day is short and she must hurry.
Her son understood what was worrying her, because he said, "Mother, I will help you."
