will become a person with a lot in life other than that of his father — out of work ever since rheumatism condemned him to beg his living from his wife.
Yes, she longed greatly for two days of rest, or a week of rest, or a month of rest... but she knew it would come out of her account, that her money the following week would be less, and that she and her children would live for at least two days on black bread and half-dried olives.
Then there was Nadim's shirt: the agent was bound to charge her a lira, or a lira and a half, for the cloth — that is, if he let her off the price of the buttons.
Ugh — feasts are no feasts for the poor; they are an occasion that makes them feel the feast belongs to whoever can afford to buy it... for it is in the clothing shops, and with the sellers of sweets and cakes and meat and fruit.
Wadad tried to drive off her broodings so as to follow closely
the movements of the scissors over the blue cloth with its white squares; and her scissors ran with a love they had never known with the pile of shirts she had turned out during the day... for with this shirt she pictured Nadim, elegance lending him a freshness that a life of bare subsistence had wiped away.
She forgot the pains of her back, bent always like a weary question mark, as she worked the sewing machine: the parts of the shirt joined together, the first pocket went on and then the second, the little buttons took their places, and the shirt, once pressed, came out trim, with a great deal in it of Nadim's own sweet ways.
Wadad rose, put her things in order, took up her sagging handbag, wrapped the shirt carefully in an old newspaper, then went over to the agent to inquire about the price of the cloth.
He took the wrapped bundle, opened it, contemplated the shirt,
and said: So you picked out this cloth. It is our finest grade, as you see, and the best selling. I see you have sewn it with noticeable care... And the agent gave a muffled cough, then glanced at her fingers clenched over a few liras, and said: Ah — the price... Well, we sell it to the merchants at four liras... and I shall give you the same treatment and let you have it at the wholesale price... Four liras is a moderate price for a smart shirt... Are you satisfied?
Wadad was not satisfied. Everything about her said that she was not satisfied... her trembling lips, her anxious hand, the alarm that leapt into her eyes — everything said that she had stumbled into an adventure that would cost her a dry feast for herself and her family.
Four liras... when the cloth was worth no more than a lira... the buttons and thread a quarter of a lira... Why should she pay four
Crisco
Crisco
Delicious taste — quick digestion
The pure vegetable shortening
with no trace of fat or grease in it
Crisco = the finest and purest vegetable shortening
For all foods, light frying, and every kind of sweets