Mr. Monday and other tales of Jewish Amsterdam

MY FATHER AND MR. LEBOVITZ 53

Mother. "If you get blood poisoning, it will be too late to change your ways."

Father looked as if he were put in the corner like a small child being punished. "It's easy for you to say that I may not shave myself anymore, but what can I do? I can't go out in the streets with a half-shaven face," he said nervously.

"You go to Jonas Slap downstairs, let him finish the job."

"I can't do that! Then tomorrow the whole town will know it, and even after a hundred years I won't have heard the end of it."

"Still, you can't go around like that."

"You're telling me!"

After a few moments of silence Mother asked, "What are you thinking about?"

"The same person you are thinking of."

Grandma drew the conclusion: "Lowee Jacobs."

"I'm afraid that's the only solution," said Father.

"I will not let that skirt-chaser come into my house!" cried Mother.

"Well," said Father slowly, "then I will have to go downstairs and ask Lowee whether he will shave me in the flat of Rosa and Dina."

Grandmother resolutely stepped to the door and barred the opening with her body. "Never! You won't leave this room! You'd like that, eh? Fine idea, you going to those tarts downstairs and later telling everybody that your own wife and mother-in-law had sent you."

"And I'll be damned if I go to Jonas Slap's barber-shop in this condition."