Clever Gretele was not ordinarily one to ponder the scriptures. That was God’s own truth and she had no fear for the truth. She resembled neither Zalman the Learned, who could work mathematical wonders to prove that the Egyptians were smitten with 300 plagues, nor Menachem Menasche, who could quote commentary from Conference talks by the brothers in America just as easily as he might call upon the authority of Rabbi Akiva. No, Clever Gretele had far more practical than spiritual insight. She and her mother hadn’t made it through their hungriest years by knowing one verse from another. If the Bible had a Book of Bargaining, she might’ve become as expert in the scriptures as anyone. As it was, she was a little like those handcart pioneers: she’d gotten to know God by experience, until life got easier and God became more of a passing acquaintance again. Now? She had the wisdom of Solomon when called upon to settle an argument over a child’s toy, but ask her to name the 12 Articles of Faith and she could never seem to get any farther than Issachar.