glanced at the sky through the airshaft's black square. In one of the other flats, a girl in a parlor chair was brushing a dog that yawned and tried to lick her hand. She pushed its muzzle down. A woman in a chemise passed through the room, back and forth from kitchen to hall. Mickey's window gave on the shaft; it was on the corner, and if he were awake now he might be able to see his brother and his uncle. "The doctor's going to be here any minute." Leventhal was suddenly impatient. "I thought Elena was in such a hurry for him to come. What's keeping her?" "I'll go and see." Philip sprang from the stool. "Don't leave your supper. Tell me where she is and I'll find her." But Philip was already in the corridor. Leventhal, however, instead of footsteps, heard voices through the open doors. Had he met Elena coming up the stairs? The light went on in the dining-room, under the green glass panes of the shade, and Leventhal had a glimpse of a woman in a black dress moving beside the table. "Boy?" he called out. "Say, Phil?" "Here. Come on in." "Who is it?" he inquired in a low voice. He tried to see beyond the lamp to the other end of the room. "My grandmother." "The old woman?" said Leventhal in surprise. He had heard something about her from Max but had never seen her. He started from the doorway and, looking confused, went toward her around the dining-room table, changing his direction when she turned and sat down in the mohair armchair. "This is Dad's brother," Philip said to her. Leventhal was conscious of prolonging his nod almost into a bow; he wanted to be prepossessing. The old lady gave him only a brief sharp glance. Taller than Elena, she was gaunt and straight-backed, and the carriage of her head was tense. She wore large gold earrings. The hair came out short and white at her temples; toward the back of her head it was black and tightly knotted. Her dress also was black, a black silk, and despite the heat she wore a shawl on her shoulders. Since she remained silent, Leventhal stood undecided; it seemed inadvisable to say more; to sit down without being answered would embarrass him. But, also, it might be impolite to return to the kitchen. Maybe he misunderstood her taciturnity. However, she seemed to avert her head from him, and he had to struggle with an angry urge to compel her to face him. Nevertheless she had not spoken, and he could not be sure. It was possible that he was mistaken. "I thought you were going to fetch your mother," he said to Philip somewhat impatiently. And when Philip started to leave, he said hastily, "I'll go with you." He had decided that the grandmother's look was unfriendly, though in the dusty green-tinged light that came through the lampshade it was difficult to get a definite impression. But he felt her antagonism. In a shambling gait--the heat made him heavy--he followed Philip down several turns of the stairs to the neighbor's flat. Philip knocked, and in a few seconds Elena came hurrying out to them, eager and fearful. "Oh, Asa, you," she said. "And the specialist? Did you bring him?" "He said between seven and eight. He ought to be here soon." The neighbor, Mr Villani, smoking a twisted stogie, appeared in the hallway and cried out to her, "You let us know right away what he says about the boy up there." He looked at Leventhal, perfectly unconstrained in his curiosity. "How do?" he said to him. "This is my husband's brother," said Elena. "Yes, sure," said Villani taking the cigar out of his mouth. Leventhal impassively looked back at him, his eyes solemn and uncommunicative, only a little formally inquiring. A drop of sweat ran down his cheek. Villani, one hand in his pocket, spread his trousers wide. "You look like Mr Leventhal, all right," he said. He turned to Elena. "And what the doctor tells you, you do it, missis, you hear? We're gonna pull that boy through, so don't worry. What I think is he's only got summer fever," he said to Leventhal. "It ain't serious. My kids had it. But
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