"Oy vey， oy vey，" I pulled and pulled.<br > "What is it? What s happened?" A murmur went up fron<br > the congregation.<br > "Can t you see? It s his beard; it s stuck in the doorl"<br > "Yes， it s my beard; it s stuck in the door，" I yelled<br >"That s it." I knew it had to be something like that.<br > "Aht His beard."<br > "It s plain now."<br > "It s obvious."<br > "We should have seen it at once."<br > Together they chorused: "His beard is stuck in the door."<br > I stopped pulling for a moment. "Is that the best you cal<br >do?" I asked irritably.<br > "It s a problem，" a voice said.<br > "A catastrophe."<br > "It s an umglik."<br > "Whoever heard of such a thing?"<br > "What s to be done?" the congregation wailed.<br > There was a general shrugging of shoulders， a scratching oJ<br >heads， a multitude of sighs. The usual thing.<br > A voice from the rear of the congregation made itselt<br >heard: "Waitl"<br > It was Yankel the Tailor.<br > All eyes fumed toward him. I looked too. What else wa，，<br >there to do?<br > This Yankel was a short， nearsighted man who wore hL，<br >yarmulka at a rakish angle. He tapped his forehead.<br >
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