George walks with long, quick steps along the sidewalk, not feeling the bitter cold that stings the tip of his nose and his ears: his face is beaming, and the joy that fills his chest almost lifts him off the pavement. He touches in his pocket the sixty liras he has gathered. Sixty liras! A great fortune — with it he could buy half of Beirut! George had been collecting his coins in a money-box for more than a year, and today he broke the box and found forty-five liras in it. And he had come across some of his schoolbooks from last year and sold them without anyone knowing, and got fifteen liras for them; so the total of the money he had come by was sixty liras. He is going down to the market now to pick out toys for himself, for Christmas is near, and last year he was given none of these toys because his father was out of work and things were tight — and he is still without work to this day. And George's heart tightens at the memory of how things are at home: for a year and a half his father has gone out of the house every morning to look for work, and come back with a frowning face, so that Mama knows the answer without asking him, and begins to grumble and curse their luck as she sets the table for the meal, flinging the things down upon it, while Papa smokes one cigarette after another, silent, his brow dark. Then Mama says heatedly:

— Look at your friend Asaad al-Homsi, who was your companion at school and was down and out — "flat on the ground, referee!" — unable to find work, until he went off to Brazil with his wife, and now the two of them are among the men of millions, though he is not educated like you! So why don't we go too? There is the land of work; there we shall live. Brazil is a gold mine!

And Papa answers her:

— We shall see; perhaps I will find work tomorrow.

He falls silent a moment, then goes on:

— And besides, the fare for our passage on the steamer — where would I get it?

And the next morning Papa goes out again to look for work, and the whole thing is repeated as on the day before!

George slowed his pace while these painful thoughts ran through him, his head bowed... But he will not let sadness take hold of him now; he wants to rejoice today and forget what is at home, because he is going to buy the most beautiful toys in Beirut with the sixty liras... What will he buy? A big red automobile?

Or an electric train with the stations that light up when it arrives? And George looks at the gleaming shop windows: here is a tree bearing electric candles of every color, with a shining star sparkling at its top and sending its glittering rays down to the foot of the tree; and there is a Santa Claus thrusting out his white beard as he points to a heap of toys of every shape, decorated with shining threads; and there a white bear, and a beautiful red automobile, and a green bicycle, and footballs... The boy enters a big shop... Ah, there is a crowd of people watching an electric train running all by itself. How beautiful it is, with its little windows where the passengers' heads look out! George spent the whole afternoon gazing long at every window and every toy before choosing — for "looking costs nothing" — and how delicious this stroll through the streets of Beirut in the days of Christmas! And George will come tomorrow or the day after to buy what he decides upon.

The boy went back home, his thoughts and his imagination full of beautiful, wondrous things! He entered the house and found his little brother crying his tiresome cry because he wanted a sweet. Mama threatened him:

— Be quiet, or I'll spank you.

And the child's screaming rose louder than before. Then Papa came home and, as usual, began quarreling with Mama, and George remembered the well-known proverb Mama sometimes repeats: "Want breeds bickering." And his great joy after his tour of the town's streets melted away, and sorrow gnawed at his heart... Why doesn't Papa find work, so that he could earn money and bring sweets for his little brother, and Mama's temper would soften... and... and all the troubles would vanish? But alas, there is no work for his father; wherever he goes they tell him: "We are not in need of employees." And he has spent a year and a half in this state! Why doesn't Papa find work? Why has he no place among those who work? But... if Papa can find no work here, why doesn't he go with his family to Brazil, the gold mine, as Mama says?

And George sank into a sea of thought: Brazil, the land of gold — why don't they go there? His father says he does not have the fare for the passage on the steamer... But he — little George — can make this wish come true if he wants. Isn't there sixty liras in his pocket right now? The pocket is bulging with it. Surely it is enough for them to go to Brazil...