'No, no,' replied Mrs. Mendel reassuring_Ghetto Comedies

frying fish in the kitchen.'

This proof of her Jewishness passed unquestioned, and the new-born

horror subsided.

'But in spite of the fish,' said Mr. Mendel, 'she served in the shop

while he was at synagogue.'

'Yes,' hissed Barzinsky; 'and in spite of the synagogue _he_ served

in the shop. A greater mockery was never known!'

'Not at all, not at all,' said the _Parnass_ judicially. 'If a man

breaks one commandment, that's no reason he should break two.'

'But he does break two,' Solomon thundered, smiting the green cloth

with his fist; 'for he steals my custom by opening when I'm closed.'

'Take care--you will break my plates,' said the _Parnass_. 'Take a

sandwich.'

'Thank you--you've taken away my appetite.'

'I'm sorry--but the sandwiches would have done the same. I really

can't expel a respectable seat-holder before I know that he is truly a

sinner in Israel. As it is written, "Thou shalt inquire and make

search and ask diligently." He may have only opened this once by way

of a send-off. Every dog is allowed one bite.'

'At that rate, it would be permitted to eat a ham-sandwich--just for

once,' said Solomon scathingly.

'Don't say _I_ called you a dog,' the _Parnass_ laughed.

'A mezaire!' announced the hostess hurriedly. 'After all, it's the

Almighty's business, not ours.'

'No, it's our business,' Solomon insisted.

'Yes,' agreed the _Parnass_ drily; 'it _is_ your business.'

III

The week went by, with no lull in the storm, though the plate-glass

window was unshaken by the gusts. It maintained its flaunting

seductiveness, assisted, people observed, by Simeon Samuels' habit of

lounging at his shop-door and sucking in the hesitating spectator. And

it did not shutter itself on the Sabbath that succeeded.

The horror was tinged with consternation. The strange apathy of the

pavement and the sky, the remissness of the volcanic fires and the

celestial thunderbolts in face of this staring profanity, lent the

cosmos an air almost of accessory after the fact. Never had the

congregation seen Heaven so openly defied, and the consequences did

not at all correspond with their deep if undefined forebodings. It is

true a horse and carriage dashed into Peleg, the pawnbroker's, window

down the street, frightened, Peleg maintained, by the oilskins

fluttering outside Simeon Samuels' shop; but as the suffering was

entirely limited to the nerves of Mrs. Peleg, who was pious, and to

the innocent nose of the horse, this catastrophe was not quite what

was expected. Solomon Barzinsky made himself the spokesman of the

general dissatisfaction, and his remarks to the minister after the

Sabbath service almost insinuated that the reverend gentleman had

connived at a breach of contract.

The Rev. Elkan Gabriel quoted Scripture. 'The Lord is merciful and

long-suffering, and will not at once awaken all His wrath.'

'But meantime the sinner makes a pretty penny!' quoth Solomon,

unappeased. 'Saturday is pay-day, and the heathen haven't patience to

wait till the three stars are out and our shops can open. It is your

duty, Mr. Gabriel, to put a stop to this profanation.'

The minister hummed and ha'd. He was middle-aged, and shabby, with a

German diploma and accent and a large family. It was the first time in

his five years of office that one of his congregants had suggested

such authoritativeness on his part. Elected by their vote, he was

treated as their servant, his duties rigidly prescribed, his religious

ideas curbed and corrected by theirs. What wonder if he could not

suddenly rise to dictatorship? Even at home Mrs. Gabriel was a

congregation in herself. But as the week went by he found Barzinsky

was not the only man to egg him on to prophetic denunciation; the

congregation at large treated him as responsible for the scandal, and

if the seven marine-dealers were the bitterest, the pawnbrokers and

the linen-drapers were none the less outraged.

'It is a profanation of the Name,' they said unanimously, 'and such a

bad example to our poor!'

'He would not listen to me,' the poor minister would protest. 'You had

much better talk to him yourself.'

'Me!' the button-holer would ejaculate. 'I would not lower myself.

He'd think I was jealous of his success.'

Simeon Samuels seemed, indeed, a formidable person to tackle. Bland

and aloof, he pursued his own affairs, meeting the congregation only

in synagogue, and then more bland and aloof than ever.

At last the Minister received a presidential command to preach upon

the subject forthwith.

'But there's no text suitable just yet,' he pleaded. 'We are still in

Genesis.'

'Bah!' replied the _Parnass_ impatiently, 'any text can be twisted to

point any moral. You must preach next Sabbath.'

'But we are reading the _Sedrah_ (weekly portion) about Joseph. How

are you going to work Sabbath-keeping into that?'

'It is not my profession. I am a mere man-of-the-earth. But what's the

use of a preacher if he can't make any text mean something else?'

'Well, of course, every text usually does,' said the preacher

defensively. 'There is the hidden meaning and the plain meaning. But

Joseph is merely historical narrative. The Sabbath, although mentioned

in Genesis, chapter two, wasn't even formally ordained yet.'

'And what about Potiphar's wife?'

'That's the Seventh Commandment, not the Fourth.'

'Thank you for the information. Do you mean to say you can't jump from

one Commandment to another?'

'Oh, well----' The minister meditated.

'And Joseph was a goodly person, and well favoured. And it came to

pass that his master's wife cast her eyes upon Joseph....'

The congregation looked startled. Really this was not a text which

they wished their pastor to enlarge upon. There were things in the

Bible that should be left in the obscurity of the Hebrew, especially

when one's womenkind were within earshot. Uneasily their eyes lifted

towards the bonnets behind the balcony-grating.

'But Joseph refused.'

Solomon Barzinsky coughed. Peleg the pawnbroker blew his nose like a

protesting trumpet. The congregation's eyes returned from the balcony

and converged upon the _Parnass_. He was taking snuff as usual.

'My brethren,' began the preacher impressively, 'temptation comes to

us all----'

A sniff of indignant repudiation proceeded from many nostrils. A blush

overspread many cheeks.

'But not always in the shape it came to Joseph. In this congregation,

where, by the blessing of the Almighty, we are free from almost every

form of wrong-doing, there is yet one temptation which has power to

touch us--the temptation of unholy profit, the seduction of

Sabbath-breaking.'

A great sigh of dual relief went up to the balcony, and Simeon Samuels

became now the focus of every eye. His face was turned towards the

preacher, wearing its wonted synagogue expression of reverential

dignity.

'Oh, my brethren, that it could always be said of us: "And Joseph

refused"!'

A genial warmth came back to every breast. Ah, now the cosmos was

righting itself; Heaven was speaking through the mouth of its

minister.

The Rev. Elkan Gabriel expanded under this warmth which radiated back

to him. His stature grew, his eloquence poured forth, polysyllabic. As

he ended, the congregation burst into a heartfelt '_Yosher Koach_'

('May thy strength increase!').

The minister descended the Ark-steps, and stalked back solemnly to his

seat. As he passed Simeon Samuels, that gentleman whipped out his

hand and grasped the man of God's, and his neighbours testified that

there was a look of contrite exaltation upon his goodly features.

The Sabbath came round again, but, alas! it brought no balm to the

congregation; rather, was it a day of unrest. The plate-glass window

still flashed in iniquitous effrontery; still the ungodly proprietor

allured the stream of custom.

'He does not even refuse to take money,' Solomon Barzinsky exclaimed

to Peleg the pawnbroker, as they passed the blasphemous window on

their way from the Friday-evening service.

'Why, what would be the good of keeping open if you didn't take

money?' naively inquired Peleg.

'_Behemah_ (animal)!' replied Solomon impatiently. 'Don't you know

it's forbidden to touch money on the Sabbath?'

'Of course, I know that. But if you open your shop----!'

'All the same, you might compromise. You might give the customers the

things they need, as it is written, "Open thy hand to the needy!" but

they could pay on Saturday night.'

'And if they didn't pay? If they drank their money away?' said the

pawnbroker.

'True, but why couldn't they pay in advance?'

'How in advance?'

'They could deposit a sum of money with you, and draw against it.'

'Not with me!' Peleg made a grimace. 'All very well for your line, but

in mine I should have to deposit a sum of money with _them_. I don't

suppose they'd bring their pledges on Friday night, and wait till

Saturday night for the money. Besides, how could one remember? One

would have to profane the Sabbath by writing!'

'Write! Heaven forbid!' ejaculated Solomon Barzinsky. 'But you could

have a system of marking the amounts against their names in your

stuck on to indicate a crown. There are lots of ways. One could always

give one's self a device,' he concluded in Yiddish.

'But it is written in Job, "He disappointeth the devices of the

crafty, so that their hands cannot perform their enterprise." Have a

little of Job's patience, and trust the Lord to confound the sinner.

We shall yet see Simeon Samuels in the Bankruptcy Court.'

'I hope not, the rogue! I'd like to see him ruined!'

'That's what I mean. Leave him to the Lord.'

'The Lord is too long-suffering,' said Solomon. 'Ah, our _Parnass_ has

caught us up. Good _Shabbos_ (Sabbath), _Parnass_. This is a fine

scandal for a God-fearing congregation. I congratulate you.'

'Is he open again?' gasped the _Parnass_, hurled from his judicial

calm.

'Is my eye open?' witheringly retorted Barzinsky. 'A fat lot of good

your preacher does.'

'It was you who would elect him instead of Rochinsky,' the _Parnass_

reminded him. Barzinsky was taken aback.

'Well, we don't want foreigners, do we?' he murmured.

'And you caught an Englishman in Simeon Samuels,' chuckled the

_Parnass_, in whose breast the defeat of his candidate had never

ceased to rankle.

'Not he. An Englishman plays fair,' retorted Barzinsky. He seriously

considered himself a Briton, regarding his naturalization papers as

retrospective. 'We are just passing the Reverend Gabriel's house,' he

went on. 'Let us wait a moment; he'll come along, and we'll give him a

piece of our minds.'

'I can't keep my family waiting for _Kiddush'_ (home service), said

Peleg.

'Come home, father; I'm hungry,' put in Peleg junior, who with various

Barzinsky boys had been trailing in the parental wake.

'Silence, impudent face!' snapped Barzinsky. 'If I was your

father----Ah, here comes the minister. Good _Shabbos_ (Sabbath), Mr.

Gabriel. I congratulate you on the effect of your last sermon.'

An exultant light leapt into the minister's eye. 'Is he shut?'

'Is your mouth shut?' Solomon replied scathingly. 'I doubt if he'll

even come to _Shool_ (synagogue) to-morrow.'

The ministerial mouth remained open in a fishy gasp, but no words came

from it.

'I'm afraid you'll have to use stronger language, Mr. Gabriel,' said

the _Parnass_ soothingly.

'But if he is not there to hear it.'

'Oh, don't listen to Barzinsky. He'll be there right enough. Just give

it to him hot!'

'Your sermon was too general,' added Peleg, who had lingered, though

his son had not. 'You might have meant any of us.'

'But we must not shame our brother in public,' urged the minister. 'It

is written in the Talmud that he who does so has no share in the world

to come.'

'Well, you shamed us all,' retorted Barzinsky. 'A stranger would

imagine we were a congregation of Sabbath-breakers.'

'But there wasn't any stranger,' said the minister.

'There was Simeon Samuels,' the _Parnass_ reminded him. 'Perhaps your

sermon against Sabbath-breaking made him fancy he was just one of a

crowd, and that you have therefore only hardened him----'

'But you told me to preach against Sabbath-breaking,' said the poor

minister.

'Against the Sabbath-breaker,' corrected the _Parnass_.

'You didn't single him out,' added Barzinsky; 'you didn't even make it

clear that Joseph wasn't myself.'

'I said Joseph was a goodly person and well-favoured,' retorted the

goaded minister.

The _Parnass_ took snuff, and his sneeze sounded like a guffaw.

'Well, well,' he said more kindly, 'you must try again to-morrow.'

'I didn't undertake to preach every Saturday,' grumbled the minister,

growing bolder.

'As long as Simeon Samuels keeps open, you can't shut,' said Solomon

angrily.

'It's a duel between you,' added Peleg.

'And Simeon actually comes into to-morrow's _Sedrah_' (portion),

Barzinsky remembered exultantly. '"And took from them Simeon, and

bound him before their eyes." There's your very text. You'll pick out

Simeon from among us, and bind him to keep the Sabbath.'

'Or you can say Satan has taken Simeon and bound him,' added the

_Parnass_. 'You have a choice--yourself or Satan.'

'Perhaps you had better preach yourself, then,' said the minister

sullenly. 'I still can't see what that text has to do with

Sabbath-breaking.'

'It has as much to do with Sabbath-breaking as Potiphar's wife,'

shrieked Solomon Barzinsky.

'"And Jacob their father said unto them, Me have ye bereaved. Joseph

is not, and Simeon is not, and ye will take Benjamin."'

As the word 'Simeon' came hissing from the preacher's lips, a

veritable thrill passed through the synagogue. Even Simeon Samuels

seemed shaken, for he readjusted his praying-shawl with a nervous

movement.

'My brethren, these words of Israel, the great forefather of our

tribes, are still ringing in our ears. To-day more than ever is Israel

crying. Joseph is not--our Holy Land is lost. Simeon is not--our Holy

Temple is razed to the ground. One thing only is left us--one blessing

with which the almighty father has blessed us--our Holy Sabbath. And

ye will take Benjamin.' The pathos of his accents melted every heart.

Tears rolled down many a feminine cheek. Simeon Samuels was seen to

blow his nose softly.

Thus successfully launched, the Rev. Elkan Gabriel proceeded to draw a

tender picture of the love between Israel and his Benjamin,

Sabbath--the one consolation of his exile, and he skilfully worked in

the subsequent verse: 'If mischief befall him by the way on which ye

go, then shall ye bring down my grey hairs with sorrow to the grave.'

Yes, it would be the destruction of Israel, he urged, if the Sabbath

decayed. Woe to those sons of Israel who dared to endanger Benjamin.

'From Reuben and _Simeon_ down to Gad and Asher, his life shall be

required at their hands.' Oh, it was a red-hot-cannon-ball-firing

sermon, and Solomon Barzinsky could not resist leaning across and

whispering to the _Parnass_: 'Wasn't I right in refusing to vote for

Rochinsky?' This reminder of his candidate's defeat was wormwood to

the _Parnass_, spoiling all his satisfaction in the sermon. He rebuked

the talker with a noisy '_Shaa_' (silence).

The congregation shrank delicately from looking at the sinner; it

would be too painful to watch his wriggles. His neighbours stared

pointedly every other way. Thus, the only record of his deportment

under fire came from Yankele, the poor glazier's boy, who said that he

kept looking from face to face, as if to mark the effect on the

congregation, stroking his beard placidly the while. But as to his

behaviour after the guns were still, there was no dubiety, for

everybody saw him approach the _Parnass_ in the exodus from synagogue,

and many heard him say in hearty accents: 'I really must congratulate

you, Mr. President, on your selection of your minister.'

VII

'You touched his heart so,' shrieked Solomon Barzinsky an hour later

to the Reverend Elkan Gabriel, 'that he went straight from _Shool_

(synagogue) to his shop.' Solomon had rushed out the first thing after

breakfast, risking the digestion of his Sabbath fish, to call upon the

unsuccessful minister.

'That is not my fault,' said the preacher, crestfallen.

'Yes, it is--if you had only stuck to _my_ text. But no! You must set

yourself up over all our heads.'

'You told me to get in Simeon, and I obeyed.'

'Yes, you got him in. But what did you call him? The Holy Temple! A

fine thing, upon my soul!'

'It was only an--an--analogy,' stammered the poor minister.

'An apology! Oh, so you apologized to him, too! Better and better.'

'No, no, I mean a comparison.'

'A comparison! You never compared me to the Holy Temple. And I'm

Solomon--Solomon who built it.'

'Solomon was wise,' murmured the minister.

'Oh, and I'm silly. If I were you, Mr. Gabriel, I'd remember my place

and who I owed it to. But for me, Rochinsky would have stood in your

shoes----'

'Rochinsky is lucky.'

'Oh, indeed! So this is your gratitude. Very well. Either Simeon

Samuels shuts up shop or you do. That's final. Don't forget you were

only elected for three years.' And the little man flung out.

The _Parnass_, meeting his minister later in the street, took a

similar view.

'You really must preach again next Sabbath,' he said. 'The

congregation is terribly wrought up. There may even be a riot. If

Simeon Samuels keeps open next Sabbath, I can't answer that they won't

go and break his windows.'

'Then _they_ will break the Sabbath.'

'Oh, they may wait till the Sabbath is out.'

'They'll be too busy opening their own shops.'

'Don't argue. You _must_ preach his shop shut.'

'Very well,' said the Reverend Gabriel sullenly.

'That's right. A man with a family must rise to great occasions. Do

you think I'd be where I am now if I hadn't had the courage to buy a

bankrupt stock that I didn't see my way to paying for? It's a fight

between you and Simeon Samuels.'

'May his name be blotted out!' impatiently cried the minister in the

Hebrew imprecation.

'No, no,' replied the _Parnass_, smiling. 'His name must not be

blotted out--it must be mentioned, and--unmistakably.'

'It is against the Talmud. To shame a man is equivalent to murder,'

the minister persisted.

'Yet it is written in Leviticus: "Thou shalt in any wise rebuke thy

neighbour, and not suffer sin upon him."' And the _Parnass_ took a

triumphant pinch.

VIII

'_Simeon_ and Levi are brethren ... into their assembly be not thou

united: in their self-will they digged down a wall.'

The _Parnass_ applauded mentally. The text, from Jacob's blessing,

was ingeniously expurgated to meet the case. The wall, he perceived at

once, was the Sabbath--the Jews' one last protection against the outer

world, the one last dyke against the waves of heathendom. Nor did his

complacency diminish when his intuition proved correct, and the

preacher thundered against the self-will--ay, and the self-seeking--that

undermined Israel's last fortification. What did they seek under the

wall? Did they think their delving spades would come upon a hidden

store of gold, upon an ancient treasure-chest? Nay, it was a coffin

they would strike--a coffin of dead bones and living serpents.

A cold wave of horror traversed the synagogue; a little shriek came

from the gallery.

'I don't think I ever enjoyed a sermon so much,' said the pawnbroker

to the _Parnass_.

'Oh, he's improving,' said the _Parnass_, still swollen with

satisfaction.

But as that worthy elder emerged from the synagogue, placidly snuffing

himself, he found an excited gentleman waiting him in the lobby. It

was Lazarus Levy, whom his wife Deborah, daughter of S. Cohn (now of

Highbury), was vainly endeavouring to pacify.

'Either that Reverend Gabriel goes, Mr. _Parnass_, or I resign my

membership.'

'What is it, Mr. Levy--what is the matter?'

'Everybody knows I've been a good Jew all my life, and though Saturday

is so good for the clothing business, I've striven with all my might

to do my duty by the Almighty.'

'Of course, of course; everybody knows that.'

'And yet to-day I'm pointed out as a sinner in Israel; I'm coupled

with that Simeon Samuels. Simeon and Levy are brothers in their

iniquity--with their assembly be not united. A pretty libel, indeed!'

The _Parnass's_ complacency collapsed like an air-ball at a pin-prick.

'Oh, nonsense, everybody knows he couldn't mean you.'

'I don't know so much. There are always people ready to think one has

just been discovered keeping a back-door open or something. I

shouldn't be at all surprised to get a letter from my father-in-law in

London--you know how pious old Cohn is! As for Simeon, he kept looking

at me as if I _was_ his long-lost brother. Ah, there comes our

precious minister.... Look here, Mr. Gabriel, I'll have the law on

you. Simeon's no brother of mine----'

The sudden appearance of Simeon through the other swing-door cut the

speaker short. 'Good _Shabbos_,' said the shameless sinner. 'Ah, Mr.

Gabriel, that was a very fine sermon.' He stroked his beard. 'I quite

agree with you. To dig down a public wall is indefensible. Nobody has

the right to make more than a private hole in it, where it blocks out

his own prospect. So please do not bracket me with Mr. Levy again.

Good _Shabbos_!' And, waving his hand pleasantly, he left them to

their consternation.

'What an impudent face!' said the _Gabbai_ (treasurer), who witnessed

the episode.

'And our minister says I'm that man's brother! exclaimed Mr. Levy.

'Hush! Enough!' said the _Parnass_, with a tactful inspiration. 'You

shall read the _Haphtorah_ (prophetic section) next _Shabbos_.'

'And Mr. Gabriel must explain he didn't mean me,' he stipulated,

mollified by the magnificent _Mitzvah_ (pious privilege).

'You always try to drive a hard bargain,' grumbled the _Parnass_.

'That's a question for Mr. Gabriel.'

The reverend gentleman had a happy thought. 'Wait till we come to the

text: "Wherefore Levi hath no part nor inheritance with his

brethren."'

'You're a gentleman, Mr. Gabriel,' ejaculated S. Cohn's son-in-law,

clutching at his hand.

'And if he doesn't close to-day after your splendid sermon,' added the

_Gabbai_, 'you must call and talk to him face to face.'

The minister made a wry face. 'But that's not in my duties.'

'Pardon me, Mr. Gabriel,' put in the _Parnass_, 'you have to call upon

the afflicted and the bereaved. And Simeon Samuels is spiritually

afflicted, and has lost his Sabbath.'

'But he doesn't want comforting.'

'Well, Solomon Barzinsky does,' said the _Parnass_. 'Go to him

instead, then, for I'm past soothing him. Choose!'

'I'll go to Simeon Samuels,' said the preacher gloomily.

'It is most kind of you to call,' said Simeon Samuels as he wheeled

the parlour armchair towards his reverend guest. 'My wife will be so

sorry to have missed you. We have both been looking forward so much to

your visit.'

'You knew I was coming?' said the minister, a whit startled.

'I naturally expected a pastoral visit sooner or later.'

'I'm afraid it is later,' murmured the minister, subsiding into the

chair.

'Better late than never,' cried Simeon Samuels heartily, as he

produced a bottle from the sideboard. 'Do you take it with hot water?'

'Thank you--not at all. I am only staying a moment.'

'Ah!' He stroked his beard. 'You are busy?'

'Terribly busy,' said the Rev. Elkan Gabriel.

'Even on Sunday?'

'Rather! It's my day for secretarial work, as there's no school.'

'Poor Mr. Gabriel. I at least have Sunday to myself. But you have to

work Saturday and Sunday too. It's really too bad.'

'Eh,' said the minister blankly.

'Oh, of course I know you _must_ work on the Sabbath.'

'_I_ work on--on _Shabbos_!' The minister flushed to the temples.

'Oh, I'm not blaming you. One must live. In an ideal world of

course you'd preach and pray and sing and recite the Law for nothing

so that Heaven might perhaps overlook your hard labour, but as things

are you must take your wages.'

[Illustration: "I work on--on _Shabbos_!"]

The minister had risen agitatedly. 'I earn my wages for the rest of my

work--the Sabbath work I throw in,' he said hotly.

'Oh come, Mr. Gabriel, that quibble is not worthy of you. But far be

it from me to judge a fellow-man.'

'Far be it indeed!' The attempted turning of his sabre-point gave him

vigour for the lunge. 'You--you whose shop stands brazenly open every

Saturday!'

'My dear Mr. Gabriel, I couldn't break the Fourth Commandment.'

'What!'

'Would you have me break the Fourth Commandment?'

'I do not understand.'

'And yet you hold a Rabbinic diploma, I am told. Does not the Fourth

Commandment run: "Six days shalt thou labour and do all thy work"? If

I were to close on Saturday I should only be working five days a week,

since in this heathen country Sunday closing is compulsory.'

'But you don't keep the other half of the Commandment,' said the

bewildered minister. '"And on the seventh is the Sabbath."'

'Yes, I do--after my six days the seventh is my Sabbath. I only sinned

once, if you will have it so, the first time I shifted the Sabbath to

Sunday, since when my Sabbath has arrived regularly on Sundays.'

'But you did sin once!' said the minister, catching at that straw.

'Granted, but as to get right again would now make a second sin, it

seems more pious to let things be. Not that I really admit the first

sin, for let me ask you, sir, which is nearer to the spirit of the

Commandment--to work six days and keep a day of rest--merely changing

the day once in one's whole lifetime--or to work five days and keep

two days of rest?'

The minister, taken aback, knew not how to meet this novel defence. He

had come heavily armed against all the usual arguments as to the

necessity of earning one's bread. He was prepared to prove that even

from a material point of view you really gained more in the long run,

as it is written in the Conclusion-of-Sabbath Service: 'Blessed shalt

thou be in the city, and blessed shalt thou be in the field.'

Simeon Samuels pursued his advantage.

'My co-religionists in Sudminster seem to have put all the stress upon

the resting half of the Commandment, forgetting the working half of

it. I do my best to meet their views--as you say, one should not dig

down a wall--by attending their Sabbath service on a day most

inconvenient to me. But no sacrifice is too great to achieve prayerful

communion with one's brethren.'

'But if your views were to prevail there would be an end of Judaism!'

the minister burst forth.

'Then Heaven forbid they should prevail!' said Simeon Samuels

fervently. 'It is your duty to put the opposition doctrine as strongly

as possible from the pulpit.' Then, as the minister rose in angry

obfuscation, 'You are sure you won't have some whisky?' he added.

'No, I will take nothing from a house of sin. And if you show

yourself next Sabbath I will preach at you again.'

'So that is your idea of religion--to drive me from the synagogue. You

are more likely to drive away the rest of the congregation, sick of

always hearing the same sermon. As for me, you forget how I enjoy your

eloquence, devoted though it is to the destruction of Judaism.'

'Me!' The minister became ungrammatical in his indignation.

'Yes, you. To mix up religion with the almanac. People who find that

your Sabbath wall shuts them out of all public life and all

professions, just go outside it altogether, and think themselves

outside the gates of Judaism. If my father--peace be upon him--hadn't

had your narrow notions, I should have gone to the Bar instead of

being condemned to shop-keeping.'

'You are a very good devil's advocate now,' retorted the minister.

Simeon Samuels stroked his beard. 'Thank you. And I congratulate

_your_ client.'

'You are an _Epikouros_ (Epicurean), and I am wasting my time.'

'And mine too.'

The minister strode into the shop. At the street-door he turned.

'Then you persist in setting a bad example?'

'A bad example! To whom? To your godly congregation? Considering every

other shop in the town is open on _Shabbos_, one more or less can't

upset them.'

'When it is the only Jewish shop! Are you aware, sir, that every

other Jew in Sudminster closes rigorously on the Sabbath?'

'I ascertained that before I settled here,' said Simeon Samuels

quietly.

The report of the pastor's collapse produced an emergency meeting of

the leading sheep. The mid-day dinner-hour was chosen as the slackest.

A babble of suggestions filled the _Parnass's_ parlour. Solomon

Barzinsky kept sternly repeating his _Delenda est Carthago_: 'He must

be expelled from the congregation.'

'He should be expelled from the town altogether,' said Mendel. 'As it

is written: "And remove Satan from before and behind us."'

'Since when have we owned Sudminster?' sneered the _Parnass_. 'You

might as well talk of expelling the Mayor and the Corporation.'

'I didn't mean by Act of Parliament,' said Mendel. 'We could make his

life a torture.'

'And meantime he makes yours a torture. No, no, the only way is to

appeal to his soul----'

'May it be an atonement for us all!' interrupted Peleg the pawnbroker.

'We must beg him not to destroy religion,' repeated the _Parnass_.

'I thought Mr. Gabriel had done that,' said the _Gabbai_.

'He is only a minister. He has no worldly tact.'

'Then, why don't _you_ go?' said Solomon Barzinsky.

'I have too much worldly tact. The President's visit might seem like

an appeal to authority. It would set up his bristles. Besides, there

wouldn't be me left to appeal to. The congregation must keep some

trump up its sleeve. No, a mere plain member must go, a simple brother

in Israel, to talk to him, heart to heart. You, Barzinsky, are the

very man.'

'No, no, I'm not such a simple brother as all that. I'm in the same

line, and he might take it for trade jealousy.'

'Then Peleg must go.'

'No, no, I'm not worthy to be the _Sheliach Tzibbur_!' (envoy of the

congregation).

The _Parnass_ reassured him as to his merits. 'The congregation could

not have a worthier envoy.'

'But I can't leave my business.'

'You, with your fine grown-up daughters!' cried Barzinsky.

'Don't beshrew them--I will go at once.'

'And these gentlemen must await you here,' said the President, tapping

his snuffbox incongruously at the 'here,' 'in order to continue the

sitting if you fail.'

'I can't wait more than a quarter of an hour,' grumbled various voices

in various keys.

Peleg departed nervously, upborne by the congregational esteem. He

returned without even his own. Instead he carried a bulky barometer.

'You must buy this for the synagogue, gentlemen,' he said. 'It will do

to hang in the lobby.'

The _Parnass_ was the only one left in command of his breath.

'Buy a barometer!' he gasped.

'Well, it isn't any good to _me_,' retorted Peleg angrily.

'Then why did you buy it?' cried the _Gabbai_.

'It was the cheapest article I could get off with.'

'But you didn't go to buy,' said the _Parnass_.

'I know that--but you come into the shop--naturally he takes you for a

customer--he looks so dignified; he strokes his beard--you can't look

a fool, you must----'

'Be one,' snapped the _Parnass_. 'And then you come to us to share the

expenses!'

'Well, what do I want with a barometer?'

'It'll do to tell you there's a storm when the chimney-pots are

blowing down,' suggested the _Parnass_ crushingly.

'Put it in your window--you'll make a profit out of it,' said Mendel.

'Not while Simeon Samuels is selling them cheaper, as with his Sabbath

profits he can well afford to do!'

'Oh, he said he'd stick to his Sabbath profit, did he?' inquired the

_Parnass_.

'We never touched on that,' said Peleg miserably. 'I couldn't manage

to work the Sabbath into the conversation.'

'This is terrible.' Barzinsky's fist smote the table. 'I'll go--let

him suspect my motives or not. The Almighty knows they are pure.'

'Bravo! Well spoken!' There was a burst of applause. Several

marine-dealers shot out their hands and grasped Barzinsky's in

admiration.

'Do not await me, gentlemen,' he said importantly. 'Go in peace.'

XII

'Good afternoon, Mr. Samuels,' said Solomon Barzinsky.

'Good afternoon, sir. What can I do for you?'

'You--you don't know me? I am a fellow-Jew.'

'That's as plain as the nose on your face.'

'You don't remember me from _Shool_? Mr. Barzinsky! I had the

rolling-up of the Scroll the time you had the elevation of it.'

'Ah, indeed. At these solemn moments I scarcely notice people. But I

am very glad to find you patronizing my humble establishment.'

'I don't want a barometer,' said Solomon hurriedly.

'That is fortunate, as I have just sold my last. But in the way of

waterproofs, we have a new pattern, very seasonable.'

'No, no; I didn't come for a waterproof.'

'These oilskins----'

'I didn't come to buy anything.'

'Ah, you wish to sell me something.'

'Not that either. The fact is, I've come to beg of you, as one Jew to

another----'

'A _Schnorrer_!' interrupted Simeon Samuels. 'Oh, Lord, I ought to

have recognised you by that synagogue beginning.'

'Me, a _Schnorrer_!' The little man swelled skywards. 'Me, Solomon

Barzinsky, whose shop stood in Sudminster twenty years before you

poked your nose in----'

'I beg your pardon. There! you see I'm a beggar, too.' And Simeon

Samuels laughed mirthlessly. 'Well, you've come to beg of me.' And

his fingers caressed his patriarchal beard.

'I don't come on my own account only,' Barzinsky stammered.

'I understand. You want a contribution to the Passover Cake Fund. My

time is precious, so is yours. What is the _Parnass_ giving?'

'I'm not begging for money. I represent the congregation.'

'Dear me, why didn't you come to the point quicker? The congregation

wishes to beg my acceptance of office. Well, it's very good of you

all, especially as I'm such a recent addition. But I really feel a

diffidence. You see, my views of the Sabbath clash with those of the

congregation.'

'They do!' cried Barzinsky, leaping at his opportunity.

'Yes, I am for a much stricter observance than appears general here.

Scarcely one of you carries his handkerchief tied round his loins like

my poor old father, peace be upon him! You all carry the burden of it

impiously in a pocket.'

'I never noticed _your_ handkerchief round your waist!' cried the

bewildered Barzinsky.

'Perhaps not; I never had a cold; it remained furled.'

Simeon Samuels' superb insolence twitched Barzinsky's mouth agape.

'But you keep your shop open!' he cried at last.

'That would be still another point of clashing,' admitted Simeon

Samuels blandly. 'Altogether, you will see the inadvisability of my

accepting office.'

'Office!' echoed Barzinsky, meeting the other's ironic fence with

crude thwacks. 'Do you think a God-fearing congregation would offer

office to a Sabbath-breaker?'

'Ah, so that was at the back of it. I suspected something underhand in

your offer. I was to be given office, was I, on condition of closing

my shop on Saturday? No, Mr. Barzinsky. Go back and tell those who

sent you that Simeon Samuels scorns stipulations, and that when you

offer to make him _Parnass_ unconditionally he may consider your

offer, but not till then. Good-bye. You must jog along with your

present apology for a _Parnass_.'

'You--you Elisha ben Abuyai!' And, consoled only by the aptness of his

reference to the atheist of the Talmud, Barzinsky rushed off to tell

the _Parnass_ how Simeon Samuels had insulted them both.

XIII

The _Parnass_, however, was not to be drawn yet. He must keep himself

in reserve, he still insisted. But perhaps, he admitted, Simeon

Samuels resented mere private members or committeemen. Let the

_Gabbai_ go.

Accordingly the pompous treasurer of the synagogue strode into the

notorious shop on the Sabbath itself, catching Simeon Samuels

red-handed.

But nothing could be suaver than that gentleman's 'Good _Shabbos_.

What can I do for you?'

'You can shut up your shop,' said the _Gabbai_ brusquely.

'And how shall I pay your bill, then?'

'I'd rather give you a seat and all the honours for nothing than see

this desecration.'

'You must have a goodly surplus, then.'

'We have enough.'

'That's strange. You're the first _Gabbai_ I ever knew who was

satisfied with his balance-sheet. Is it your excellent management, I

wonder, or have you endowments?'

'That's not for me to say. I mean we have five or six hundred pounds

in legacies.'

'Indeed! Soundly invested, I hope?'

'First-class. English Railway Debentures.'

'I see. Trustee stock.' Simeon Samuels stroked his beard. 'And so your

whole congregation works on the Sabbath. A pretty confession!'

'What do you mean?'

'Runs railway trains, lights engine-fires, keeps porters and

signal-men toiling, and pockets the profits!'

'Who does?'

'You, sir, in particular, as the financial representative of the

congregation. How can any Jew hold industrial shares in a heathen

country without being a partner in a Sabbath business--ay, and opening

on the Day of Atonement itself? And it is you who have the audacity to

complain of me! I, at least, do my own dirty work, not hide myself

behind stocks and shares. Good _Shabbos_ to you, Mr. _Gabbai_, and

kindly mind your own business in future--your locomotives and your

sidings and your stinking tunnels.'

XIV

The _Parnass_ could no longer delay the diplomatic encounter. 'Twas

vain to accuse the others of tactlessness, and shirk the exhibition of

his own tact. He exhibited it most convincingly by not informing the

others that he was about to put it to a trial.

Hence he refrained from improving a synagogue opportunity, but sneaked

one week-day towards the shop. He lingered without, waiting to be

invited within. Thus all appearance of his coming to rebuke would be

removed. His mission should pop up from a casual conversation.

He peeped into the window, passed and repassed.

Simeon Samuels, aware of a fly hovering on the purlieus of his web,

issued from its centre, as the _Parnass_ turned his back on the shop

and gazed musingly at the sky.

'Looks threatening for rain, sir,' observed Simeon Samuels, addressing

the back. 'Our waterproofs---- Bless my soul, but it surely isn't our

_Parnass_!'

'Yes, I'm just strolling about. I seem to have stumbled on your

establishment.'

'Lucky for me.'

'And a pleasure for me. I never knew you had such a nice display.'

'Won't you come inside, and see the stock?'

'Thank you, I must really get back home. And besides, as you say, it

is threatening for rain.'

'I'll lend you a waterproof, or even sell you one cheap. Come in,

sir--come in. Pray honour me.'

Congratulating himself on catching the spider, the fly followed him

within.

A quarter of an hour passed, in which he must buzz about the stock. It

seemed vastly difficult to veer round to the Sabbath through the web

of conversation the spider wove round him. Simeon Samuels' conception

of a marine-dealer's stock startled him by its comprehensiveness, and

when he was asked to admire an Indian shawl, he couldn't help

inquiring what it was doing there.

'Well,' explained Simeon Samuels, 'occasionally a captain or first

mate will come back to England, home, and beauty, and will have

neglected to buy foreign presents for his womenkind. I then remind him

of the weakness of womenkind for such trophies of their menfolks'

travel.'

'Excellent. I won't tell your competitors.'

'Oh, those cattle!' Simeon snapped his fingers. 'If they stole my

idea, they'd not be able to carry it out. It's not easy to cajole a

captain.'

'No, you're indeed a honeyed rascal,' thought the _Parnass_.

'I also do a brisk business in chutney,' went on Simeon. 'It's a thing

women are especially fond of having brought back to them from India.

And yet it's the last thing their menkind think of till I remind them

of it on their return.'

'_I_ certainly brought back none,' said the _Parnass_, smiling in

spite of himself.

'You have been in India?'

'I have,' replied the _Parnass_, with a happy inspiration, 'and I

brought back to my wife something more stimulating than chutney.'

'Indeed?'

'Yes, the story of the Beni-Israel, the black Jews, who, surrounded by

all those millions of Hindoos, still keep their Sabbath.'

'Ah, poor niggers. Then you've been half round the world.'

'_All_ round the world, for I went there and back by different routes.

And it was most touching, wherever I went, to find everywhere a colony

of Jews, and everywhere the Holy Sabbath kept sacred.'

'But on different days, of course,' said Simeon Samuels.

'Eh? Not at all! On the same day.'

'On the same day! How could that be? The day changes with every move

east or west. When it's day here, it's night in Australia.'

Darkness began to cloud the presidential brow.

'Don't you try to make black white!' he said angrily.

'It's you that are trying to make white black,' retorted Simeon

Samuels. 'Perhaps you don't know that I hail from Australia, and that

by working on Saturday I escape profaning my native Australian

Sabbath, while you, who have been all round the world, and have either

lost or gained a day, according as you travelled east or west, are

desecrating your original Sabbath either by working on Friday or

smoking on Sunday.'

The _Parnass_ felt his head going round--he didn't know whether east

or west. He tried to clear it by a pinch of snuff, which he in vain

strove to make judicial.

'Oh, and so, and so--atchew!--and so you're the saint and I'm the

sinner!' he cried sarcastically.

'No, I don't profess to be a saint,' replied Simeon Samuels somewhat

unexpectedly. 'But I do think the Saturday was meant for Palestine,

not for the lands of the Exile, where another day of rest rules. When

you were in India you probably noted that the Mohammedans keep Friday.

A poor Jew in the bazaar is robbed of his Hindoo customers on Friday,

of his Jews on Saturday, and his Christians on Sunday.'

'The Fourth Commandment is eternal!' said the _Parnass_ with obstinate

sublimity.

'But the Fifth says, "that thy days may be long in the land which the

Lord thy God giveth thee." I believe this reward belongs to all the

first five Commandments--not only to the Fifth--else an orphan would

have no chance of long life. Keep the Sabbath in the land that the

Lord giveth thee; not in England, which isn't thine.'

'Oho!' retorted the _Parnass_. 'Then at that rate in England you

needn't honour your father and mother.'

'Not if you haven't got them!' rejoined Simeon Samuels. 'And if you

haven't got a land, you can't keep its Sabbath. Perhaps you think we

can keep the Jubilee also without a country.'

'The Sabbath is eternal,' repeated the _Parnass_ doggedly. 'It has

nothing to do with countries. Before we got to the Promised Land we

kept the Sabbath in the wilderness.'

'Yes, and God sent a double dose of manna on the Friday. Do you mean

to say He sends us here a double dose of profit?'

'He doesn't let us starve. We prospered well enough before you brought

your wretched example----'

'Then my wretched example cannot lead the congregation away. I am glad

of it. You do them much more harm by your way of Sabbath-breaking.'

'My way!'

'Yes, my dear old father--peace be upon him!--would have been

scandalized to see the burden you carry on the Sabbath.'

'What burden do I carry?'

'Your snuff-box!'

The _Parnass_ almost dropped it. 'That little thing!'

'I call it a cumbrous, not to say tasteless thing. But before the

Almighty there is no great and no small. One who stands in such a high

place in the synagogue must be especially mindful, and every

unnecessary burden----'

'But snuff is necessary for me--I can't do without it.'

'Other Presidents have done without it. As it is written in Jeremiah:

"And the wild asses did stand in the high places; they snuffed up the

wind."'

The _Parnass_ flushed like a beetroot. 'I'll teach you to know _your_

place, sir.' He turned his back on the scoffer, and strode towards the

door.

'But if you'd care for a smaller snuff-box,' said Simeon Samuels, 'I

have an artistic assortment.'

At the next meeting of the Synagogue Council a notice of motion stood

upon the agenda in the name of the _Parnass_ himself:

'That this Council views with the greatest reprobation the breach of

the Fourth Commandment committed weekly by a member of the

congregation, and calls upon him either to resign his seat, with the

burial and other rights appertaining thereto, or to close his business

on the Sabbath.'

When the resolution came up Mr. Solomon Barzinsky moved as an

amendment that weekly be altered into 'twice a week,' since the member

kept open on Friday night as well as Saturday.

The _Parnass_ refused to accept the amendment. There was only one

Sabbath a week, though it had two periods. 'And the evening and the

morning were one day.'

Mr. Peleg supported the amendment. They must not leave Mr. Simeon

Samuels a loophole of escape. It was also, he said, the duty of the

Council to buy a barometer the rogue had foisted upon him.

After an animated discussion, mainly about the barometer, the

President accepted the amendment, but produced a great impression by

altering 'twice a week' into 'bi-weekly.'

A Mr. John Straumann, however, who prided himself on his style, and

had even changed his name to John because Jacob grated on his delicate

ear, refused to be impressed.

Committed _bi_-weekly _by_ a member sounded almost jocose, he argued.

'Buy! buy!' it sounded like a butcher's cry.

Mr. Enoch, the _kosher_ butcher, rose amid excitement, and asked if he

had come there to be insulted!

'Sit down! sit down!' said the _Parnass_ roughly. 'It's no matter how

the resolution sounds. It will be in writing.'

'Then why not add,' sarcastically persisted the stylist, '"Committed

_bi_-weekly _by_ a member _by buying_ and selling."'

'Order, order!' said the _Parnass_ angrily. 'Those who are in favour

of the resolution! Carried.'

'_By_ a majority,' sneered the stylist, subsiding.

'Mr. Secretary'--the President turned to the poor

Reverend-of-all-work--'you need not record this verbal discussion in

the minutes.'

'_By_ request,' said the stylist, reviving.

'But what's the use of the resolution if you don't mention the

member's name?' suddenly inquired Ephraim Mendel, stretching his long,

languid limbs.

'But there's only one Sabbath-breaker,' replied the _Parnass_.

'To-day, yes, but to-morrow there might be two.'

'It could hardly be to-morrow,' said the stylist. 'For that happens to

be a Monday.'

Barzinsky bashed the table. 'Mr. President, are we here for business

or are we not?'

'You may be here for business--I am here for religion,' retorted

Straumann the stylist.

'You--you snub-nosed monkey, what do you mean?'

'Order, order, gentlemen,' said the _Parnass_.

'I will not order,' said Solomon Barzinsky excitedly. 'I did not come

here to be insulted.'

'Insulted!' quoth Straumann. 'It's you that must apologize, you

illiterate icthyosaurus! I appeal to the President.'

'You have both insulted _me_,' was that worthy's ruling. 'I give the

word to Mr. Mendel.'

'But----' from both the combatants simultaneously.

'Order, order!' from a dozen throats.

'I said Simeon Samuels' name must be put in,' Mendel repeated.

'You should have said so before--the resolution is carried now,' said

the President.

'And a fat lot of good it will do,' said Peleg. 'Gentlemen, if you

knew him as well as I, if you had my barometer to read him by, you'd

see that the only remedy is to put him in _Cherem_' (excommunication).

'If he can't get buried it _is_ a kind of _Cherem_,' said the

_Gabbai_.

'Assuredly,' added the _Parnass_. 'He will be frightened to think that

if he dies suddenly----'

'And he is sure to take a sudden death,' put in Barzinsky with

unction.

'He will not be buried among Jews,' wound up the _Parnass_.

'Hear, hear!' A murmur of satisfaction ran round the table. All felt

that Simeon Samuels was cornered at last. It was resolved that the

resolution be sent to him.

XVI

'Mr. Simeon Samuels requests me to say that he presents his

compliments to the secretary of the Sudminster Hebrew Congregation,

and begs to acknowledge the receipt of the Council's resolution. In

reply I am to state that Mr. Samuels regrets that his views on the

Sabbath question should differ from those of his fellow-worshippers,

but he has not attempted to impress his views on the majority, and he

regrets that in a free country like England they should have imported

the tyranny of the lands of persecution from which they came.

Fortunately such procedure is illegal. By the act of Charles I. the

Sabbath is defined as the Sunday, and as a British subject Mr. Samuels

takes his stand upon the British Constitution. Mr. Samuels has done

his best to compromise with the congregation by attending the Sabbath

service on the day most convenient to the majority. In regard to the

veiled threat of the refusal of burial rights, Mr. Samuels desires me

to say that he has no intention of dying in Sudminster, but merely of

getting his living there. In any case, under his will, his body is to

be deported to Jerusalem, where he has already acquired a

burying-place.'

'Next year in Jerusalem!' cried Barzinsky fervently, when this was

read to the next meeting.

'Order, order,' said the _Parnass_. 'I don't believe in his Jerusalem

grave. They won't admit his dead body.'

'He relies on smuggling in alive,' said Barzinsky gloomily, 'as soon

as he has made his pile.'

'That won't be very long at this rate,' added Ephraim Mendel.

'The sooner the better,' said the _Gabbai_ impatiently. 'Let him go to

Jericho.'

There was a burst of laughter, to the _Gabbai's_ great astonishment.

'Order, order, gentlemen,' said the _Parnass_. 'Don't you see from

this insolent letter how right I was? The rascal threatens to drag us

to the Christian Courts, that's clear. All that about Jerusalem is

only dust thrown into our eyes.'

'Grave-dust,' murmured Straumann.

'Order! He is a dangerous customer.'

'Shopkeeper,' corrected Straumann.

The _Parnass_ glared, but took snuff silently.

'I don't wonder he laughed at us,' said Straumann, encouraged.

'_Bi_-weekly _by_ a member. Ha! ha! ha!'

'Mr. President!' Barzinsky screamed. 'Will you throw that laughing

hyena out, or shall I?'

Straumann froze to a statue of dignity. 'Let any animalcule try it

on,' said he.

'Shut up, you children, I'll chuck you both out,' said Ephraim Mendel

in conciliatory tones. 'The point is--what's to be done now, Mr.

President?'

'Nothing--till the end of the year. When he offers his new

subscription we refuse to take it. That can't be illegal.'

'We ought all to go to him in a friendly deputation,' said Straumann.

'These formal resolutions "Buy! buy!" put his back up. We'll go to him

as brothers--all Israel are brethren, and blood is thicker than

water.'

'Chutney is thicker than blood,' put in the _Parnass_ mysteriously.

'He'll simply try to palm off his stock on the deputation.'

Ephraim Mendel and Solomon Barzinsky jumped up simultaneously. 'What a

good idea,' said Ephraim. 'There you have hit it!' said Solomon. Their

simultaneous popping-up had an air of finality--like the long and the

short of it!

'You mean?' said the _Parnass_, befogged in his turn.

'I mean,' said Barzinsky, 'we could buy up his stock, me and the other

marine-dealers between us, and he could clear out!'

'If he sold it reasonably,' added Mendel.

'Even unreasonably you must make a sacrifice for the Sabbath,' said

the _Parnass_. 'Besides, divided among the lot of you, the loss would

be little.'

'And you can buy in my barometer with the rest,' added Peleg.

'We could call a meeting of marine-dealers,' said Barzinsky,

disregarding him. 'We could say to them we must sacrifice ourselves

for our religion.'

'Tell that to the marine-dealers!' murmured Straumann.

'And that we must buy out the Sabbath-breaker at any cost.'

'Buy! buy!' said Straumann. 'If you'd only thought of that sort of

"Buy! buy!" at the first!'

'Order, order!' said the _Parnass_.

'It would be more in order,' said Straumann, 'to appoint an executive

sub-committee to deal with the question. I'm sick of it. And surely we

as a Synagogue Council can't be in order in ordering some of our

members to buy out another.'

'Hear, hear!' His suggestion found general approval. It took a long

discussion, however, before the synagogue decided to wash its hands of

responsibility, and give over to a sub-committee of three the task of

ridding Sudminster of its plague-spot by any means that commended

itself to them.

Solomon Barzinsky, Ephraim Mendel, and Peleg the pawnbroker were

elected to constitute this Council of Three.

XVII

The glad news spread through the Sudminster Congregation that Simeon

Samuels had at last been bought out--at a terrible loss to the

martyred marine-dealers who had had to load themselves with chutney

and other unheard-of and unsaleable stock. But they would get back

their losses, it was felt, by the removal of his rivalry. Carts were

drawn up before the dismantled plate-glass window carrying off its

criminal contents, and Simeon Samuels stood stroking his beard amid

the ruins.

Then the shop closed; the shutters that should have honoured the

Sabbath now depressed the Tuesday. Simeon Samuels was seen to get into

the London train. The demon that troubled their sanctity had been

exorcised. A great peace reigned in every heart, almost like the

Sabbath peace coming into the middle of the week.

'If they had only taken my advice earlier,' said Solomon Barzinsky to

his wife, as he rolled his forkful of beef in the chutney.

'You can write to your father, Deborah,' said Lazarus Levy, 'that we

no longer need the superior reach-me-downs.'

On the Wednesday strange new rumours began to circulate, and those who

hastened to confirm them stood dumbfounded before great posters on all

the shutters:

CLOSED FOR RE-STOCKING

THE OLD-FASHIONED STOCK OF THIS BUSINESS

HAVING BEEN SOLD OFF TO THE TRADE,

SIMEON SAMUELS

IS TAKING THE OPPORTUNITY

TO LAY IN THE BEST AND MOST UP-TO-DATE

LONDON AND CONTINENTAL GOODS

FOR HIS CUSTOMERS.

_BARGAINS AND NOVELTIES IN EVERY DEPARTMENT._

RE-OPEN SATURDAY NEXT

XVIII

A hurried emergency meeting of the Executive Sub-Committee was called.

'He has swindled us,' said Solomon Barzinsky. 'This paper signed by

him merely undertakes to shut up his shop. And he will plead he meant

for a day or two.'

'And he agreed to leave the town,' wailed Peleg, 'but he meant to buy

goods.'

'Well, we can have the law of him,' said Mendel. 'We paid him

compensation for disturbance.'

'And can't he claim he _was_ disturbed?' shrieked Barzinsky. 'His

whole stock turned upside down!'

'Let him claim!' said Mendel. 'There is such a thing as obtaining

money under false pretences.'

'And such a thing as becoming the laughing-stock of the heathen,' said

Peleg. 'We must grin and bear it ourselves.'

'It's all very well for you to grin,' said Solomon tartly. '_We've_

got to bear it. You didn't take over any of his old rubbish.'

'Didn't I, indeed? What about the barometer?'

'Confound your barometer!' cried Ephraim Mendel. 'I'll have the law of

him; I've made up my mind.'

'Well, you'll have to bear the cost, then,' said Peleg. 'It's none of

my business.'

'Yes, it is,' shouted Mendel. 'As a member of the Sub-Committee you

can't dissociate yourselves from us.'

'A nice idea that--I'm to be dragged into your law-suits!'

'Hush, leave off these squabbles!' said Solomon Barzinsky. 'The law is

slow, and not even sure. The time has come for desperate measures. We

must root out the plague-spot with our own hands.'

'Hear, hear,' said the rest of the Sub-Committee.

XIX

On the succeeding Sabbath Simeon Samuels was not the only figure in

the synagogue absorbed in devotion. Solomon Barzinsky, Ephraim Mendel,

and Peleg the pawnbroker were all rapt in equal piety, while the rest

of the congregation was shaken with dreadful gossip about them. Their

shops were open, too, it would seem.

Immediately after the service the _Parnass_ arrested Solomon

Barzinsky's exit, and asked him if the rumour were true.

'Perfectly true,' replied Solomon placidly. 'The Executive

Sub-Committee passed the resolution to----'

'To break the Sabbath!' interrupted the _Parnass_.

'We had already sacrificed our money; there was nothing left but to

sacrifice our deepest feelings----'

'But what for?'

'Why, to destroy his advantage, of course. Five-sixths of his Sabbath

profits depend on the marine-dealers closing, and when he sees he's

breaking the Sabbath in vain----'

'Rubbish! You are asked to stop a congregational infection, and

you----'

'Vaccinate ourselves with the same stuff, to make sure the attack

shall be light.'

'It's a hair of the dog that bit us,' said Mendel, who, with Peleg,

had lingered to back up Barzinsky.

'Of the mad dog!' exclaimed the _Parnass_. 'And you're all raging

mad.'

'It's the only sane way,' urged Peleg. 'When he sees his rivals

open----'

'You!' The President turned on him. 'You are not even a marine-dealer.

Why are you open?'

'How could I dissociate myself from the rest of the Sub-Committee?'

inquired Peleg with righteous indignation.

'You are a set of sinners in Israel!' cried the _Parnass_, forgetting

even to take snuff. 'This will split up the congregation.'

'The congregation through its Council gave the Committee full power to

deal with the matter,' said Barzinsky with dignity.

'But then the other marine-dealers will open as well as the

Committee!'

'I trust not,' replied Barzinsky fervently. 'Two of us are enough to

cut down his takings.'

'But the whole lot of you would be still more efficacious. Oh, this is

the destruction of our congregation, the death of our religion!'

'No, no, no,' said Solomon soothingly. 'You are mistaken. We are most

careful not to touch money. We are going to trust our customers, and

keep our accounts without pen or ink. We have invented a most

ingenious system, which gives us far more work than writing, but we

have determined to spare ourselves no trouble to keep the Sabbath from

unnecessary desecration.'

'And once the customers don't pay up, your system will break down.

No, no; I shall write to the Chief Rabbi.'

'We will explain our motives,' said Mendel.

'Your motives need no explanation. This scandal must cease.'

'And who are you to give orders?' shrieked Solomon Barzinsky. 'You're

not speaking to a _Schnorrer_, mind you. My banking account is every

bit as big as yours. For two pins I start an opposition _Shool_.'

'A Sunday _Shool_!' said the _Parnass_ sarcastically.

'And why not? It would be better than sitting playing solo on Sundays.

We are not in Palestine now.'

'Oh, Simeon Samuels has been talking to you, has he?'

'I don't need Simeon Samuels' wisdom. I'm an Englishman myself.'

The desperate measures of the Sub-Committee were successful. The other

marine-dealers hastened to associate themselves with the plan of

campaign, and Simeon Samuels soon departed in search of a more pious

seaport.

But, alas! homoeopathy was only half-vindicated. For the remedy proved

worse than the disease, and the cutting-out of the original

plague-spot left the other marine-stores still infected. The epidemic

spread from them till it had overtaken half the shops of the

congregation. Some had it in a mild form--only one shutter open, or a

back door not closed--but in many it came out over the whole

shop-window.

The one bright spot in the story of the Sudminster Sabbath is that the

congregation of which the present esteemed _Parnass_ is Solomon

Barzinsky, Esq., J.P., managed to avert the threatened split, and that

while in so many other orthodox synagogues the poor minister preaches

on the Sabbath to empty benches, the Sudminster congregation still

remains at the happy point of compromise acutely discovered by Simeon

Samuels: of listening reverentially every Saturday morning to the

unchanging principles of its minister-elect, the while its shops are

engaged in supplying the wants of Christendom.

THE RED MARK

The curious episode in the London Ghetto the other winter, while the

epidemic of small-pox was raging, escaped the attention of the

reporters, though in the world of the Board-schools it is a vivid

memory. But even the teachers and the committees, the inspectors and

the Board members, have remained ignorant of the part little Bloomah

Beckenstein played in it.

To explain how she came to be outside the school-gates instead of

inside them, we must go back a little and explain her situation both

outside and inside her school.

Bloomah was probably '_Blume_,' which is German for a flower, but she

had always been spelt 'Bloomah' in the school register, for even

Board-school teachers are not necessarily familiar with foreign

languages.

They might have been forgiven for not connecting Bloomah with blooms,

for she was a sad-faced child, and even in her tenth year showed deep,

dark circles round her eyes. But they were beautiful eyes, large,

brown, and soft, shining with love and obedience.

Mrs. Beckenstein, however, found neither of these qualities in her

youngest born, who seemed to her entirely sucked up by the school.

'In my days,' she would grumble, 'it used to be God Almighty first,

your parents next, and school last. Now it's all a red mark first,

your parents and God Almighty nowhere.'

The red mark was the symbol of punctuality, set opposite the child's

name in the register. To gain it, she must be in her place at nine

o'clock to the stroke. A moment after nine, and only the black mark

was attainable. Twenty to ten, and the duck's egg of the absent was

sorrowfully inscribed by the Recording Angel, who in Bloomah's case

was a pale pupil-teacher with eyeglasses.

But it was the Banner which loomed largest on the school horizon,

intensifying Bloomah's anxiety and her mother's grievance.

'I don't see nothing,' Mrs. Beckenstein iterated; 'no prize, no

medal--nothing but a red mark and a banner.'

The Banner was indeed a novelty. It had not unfurled itself in Mrs.

Beckenstein's young days, nor even in the young days of Bloomah's

married brothers and sisters.

As the worthy matron would say: 'There's been Jack Beckenstein,

there's been Joey Beckenstein, there's been Briny Beckenstein, there's

been Benjy Beckenstein, there's been Ada Beckenstein, there's been

Becky Beckenstein, God bless their hearts! and they all grew up

scholards and prize-winners and a credit to their Queen and their

religion without this _meshuggas_ (madness) of a Banner.'

Vaguely Mrs. Beckenstein connected the degenerate innovation with the

invasion of the school by 'furriners'--all these hordes of Russian,

Polish, and Roumanian Jews flying from persecution, who were sweeping

away the good old English families, of which she considered the

Beckensteins a shining example. What did English people want with

banners and such-like gewgaws?

The Banner was a class trophy of regularity and punctuality. It might

be said metaphorically to be made of red marks; and, indeed, its

ground-hue was purple.

The class that had scored the highest weekly average of red marks

enjoyed its emblazoned splendours for the next week. It hung by a cord

on the classroom wall, amid the dull, drab maps--a glorious sight with

its oaken frame and its rich-coloured design in silk. Life moved to a

chivalrous music, lessons went more easily, in presence of its proud

pomp: 'twas like marching to a band instead of painfully plodding.

And the desire to keep it became a passion to the winners; the little

girls strained every nerve never to be late or absent; but, alas! some

mischance would occur to one or other, and it passed, in its purple

and gold, to some strenuous and luckier class in another section of

the building, turning to a funeral-banner as it disappeared dismally

through the door of the cold and empty room.

Woe to the late-comer who imperilled the Banner. The black mark on the

childish foreheads. As for the absentee, the scowls that would meet

her return not improbably operated to prolong her absence.

Only once had Bloomah's class won the trophy, and that was largely

through a yellow fog which hit the other classes worse.

For Bloomah was the black sheep that spoilt the chances of the

fold--the black sheep with the black marks. Perhaps those great rings

round her eyes were the black marks incarnate, so morbidly did the

poor child grieve over her sins of omission.

Yet these sins of omission were virtues of commission elsewhere; for

if Bloomah's desk was vacant, it was only because Bloomah was slaving

at something that her mother considered more important.

'The Beckenstein family first, the workshop second, and school

nowhere,' Bloomah might have retorted on her mother.

At home she was the girl-of-all-work. In the living-rooms she did

cooking and washing and sweeping; in the shop above, whenever a hand

fell sick or work fell heavy, she was utilized to make buttonholes,

school hours or no school hours.

Bloomah was likewise the errand-girl of the establishment, and the

portress of goods to and from S. Cohn's Emporium in Holloway, and the

watch-dog when Mrs. Beckenstein went shopping or pleasuring.

'Lock up the house!' the latter would cry, when Bloomah tearfully

pleaded for that course. 'My things are much too valuable to be locked

up. But I know you'd rather lose my jewellery than your precious

Banner.'

When Mrs. Beckenstein had new grandchildren--and they came

frequently--Bloomah would be summoned in hot haste to the new scene of

service. Curt post-cards came on these occasions, thus conceived:

'DEAR MOTHER,

'A son. Send Bloomah.

'BRINY.'

Sometimes these messages were mournfully inverted:

'DEAR MOTHER,

'Poor little Rachie is gone. Send Bloomah to your heart-broken

'BECKY.'

Occasionally the post-card went the other way:

'DEAR BECKY,

'Send back Bloomah.

'Your loving mother.'

The care of her elder brother Daniel was also part of Bloomah's

burden; and in the evenings she had to keep an eye on his street

sports and comrades, for since he had shocked his parents by dumping

down a new pair of boots on the table, he could not be trusted without

supervision.

Not that he had stolen the boots--far worse! Beguiled by a card

cunningly printed in Hebrew, he had attended the evening classes of

the _Meshummodim_, those converted Jews who try to bribe their

brethren from the faith, and who are the bugbear and execration of the

Ghetto.

Daniel was thereafter looked upon at home as a lamb who had escaped

from the lions' den, and must be the object of their vengeful pursuit,

while on Bloomah devolved the duties of shepherd and sheep-dog.

It was in the midst of all these diverse duties that Bloomah tried to

go to school by day, and do her home lessons by night. She did not

murmur against her mother, though she often pleaded. She recognised

that the poor woman was similarly distracted between domestic duties

and turns at the machines upstairs.

Only it was hard for the child to dovetail the two halves of her life.

At night she must sit up as late as her elders, poring over her school

books, and in the morning it was a fierce rush to get through her

share of the housework in time for the red mark. In Mrs. Beckenstein's

language: 'Don't eat, don't sleep, boil nor bake, stew nor roast, nor

fry, nor nothing.'

Her case was even worse than her mother imagined, for sometimes it was

ten minutes to nine before Bloomah could sit down to her own

breakfast, and then the steaming cup of tea served by her mother was a

terrible hindrance; and if that good woman's head was turned, Bloomah

would sneak towards the improvised sink--which consisted of two dirty

buckets, the one holding the clean water being recognisable by the tin

pot standing on its covering-board--where she would pour half her tea

into the one bucket and fill up from the other.

When this stratagem was impossible, she almost scalded herself in her

gulpy haste. Then how she snatched up her satchel and ran through

rain, or snow, or fog, or scorching sunshine! Yet often she lost her

breath without gaining her mark, and as she cowered tearfully under

the angry eyes of the classroom, a stab at her heart was added to the

stitch in her side.

It made her classmates only the angrier that, despite all her

unpunctuality, she kept a high position in the class, even if she

could never quite attain prize-rank.

But there came a week when Bloomah's family remained astonishingly

quiet and self-sufficient, and it looked as if the Banner might once

again adorn the dry, scholastic room and throw a halo of romance round

the blackboard.

Then a curious calamity befell. A girl who had left the school for

another at the end of the previous week, returned on the Thursday,

explaining that her parents had decided to keep her in the old school.

An indignant heart-cry broke through all the discipline:

'Teacher, don't have her!'

From Bloomah burst the peremptory command: 'Go back, Sarah!'

For the unlucky children felt that her interval would now be reckoned

one of absence. And they were right. Sarah reduced the gross

attendance by six, and the Banner was lost.

Yet to have been so near incited them to a fresh spurt. Again the

tantalizing Thursday was reached before their hopes were dashed. This

time the break-down was even crueller, for every pinafored pupil, not

excluding Bloomah, was in her place, red-marked.

Upon this saintly company burst suddenly Bloomah's mother, who,

ignoring the teacher, and pointing her finger dramatically at her

daughter, cried:

'Bloomah Beckenstein, go home!'

Bloomah's face became one large red mark, at which all the other

girls' eyes were directed. Tears of humiliation and distress dripped

down her cheeks over the dark rings. If she were thus hauled off ere

she had received two hours of secular instruction, her attendance

would be cancelled.

The class was all in confusion. 'Fold arms!' cried the teacher

sharply, and the girls sat up rigidly. Bloomah obeyed instinctively

with the rest.

'Bloomah Beckenstein, do you want me to pull you out by your plait?'

'Mrs. Beckenstein, really you mustn't come here like that!' said the

teacher in her most ladylike accents.

'Tell Bloomah that,' answered Mrs. Beckenstein, unimpressed. 'She's

come here by runnin' away from home. There's nobody but her to see to

things, for we are all broken in our bones from dancin' at a weddin'

last night, and comin' home at four in the mornin', and pourin' cats

and dogs. If you go to our house, please, teacher, you'll see my Benjy

in bed; he's given up his day's work; he must have his sleep; he earns

three pounds a week as head cutter at S. Cohn's--he can afford to be

in bed, thank God! So now, then, Bloomah Beckenstein! Don't they teach

you here: "Honour thy father and thy mother"?'

Poor Bloomah rose, feeling vaguely that fathers and mothers should not

dishonour their children. With hanging head she moved to the door, and

burst into a passion of tears as soon as she got outside.

After, if not in consequence of, this behaviour, Mrs. Beckenstein

broke her leg, and lay for weeks with the limb cased in

plaster-of-Paris. That finished the chances of the Banner for a long

time. Between nursing and house management Bloomah could scarcely ever

put in an attendance.

So heavily did her twin troubles weigh upon the sensitive child day

and night that she walked almost with a limp, and dreamed of her name

in the register with ominous rows of black ciphers; they stretched on

and on to infinity--in vain did she turn page after page in the hope

of a red mark; the little black eggs became larger and larger, till at

last horrid horned insects began to creep from them and scramble all

over her, and she woke with creeping flesh. Sometimes she lay swathed

and choking in the coils of a Black Banner.

And, to add to these worries, the School Board officer hovered and

buzzed around, threatening summonses.

But at last she was able to escape to her beloved school. The expected

scowl of the room was changed to a sigh of relief; extremes meet, and

her absence had been so prolonged that reproach was turned to welcome.

Bloomah remorsefully redoubled her exertions. The hope of the Banner

flamed anew in every breast. But the other classes were no less keen;

a fifth standard, in particular, kept the Banner for a full month,

grimly holding it against all comers, came they ever so regularly and

punctually.

Suddenly a new and melancholy factor entered into the competition. An

epidemic of small-pox broke out in the East End, with its haphazard

effects upon the varying classes. Red marks, and black marks, medals

and prizes, all was luck and lottery. The pride of the fifth standard

was laid low; one of its girls was attacked, two others were kept at

home through parental panic. A disturbing insecurity as of an

earthquake vibrated through the school. In Bloomah's class alone--as

if inspired by her martial determination--the ranks stood firm,

unwavering.

The epidemic spread. The Ghetto began to talk of special psalms in the

little synagogues.

In this crisis which the epidemic produced the Banner seemed drifting

steadily towards Bloomah and her mates. They started Monday morning

with all hands on deck, so to speak; they sailed round Tuesday and

Wednesday without a black mark in the school-log. The Thursday on

which they had so often split was passed under full canvas, and if

they could only get through Friday the trophy was theirs.

And Friday was the easiest day of all, inasmuch as, in view of the

incoming Sabbath, it finished earlier. School did not break up between

the two attendances; there was a mere dinner-interval in the

playground at midday. Nobody could get away, and whoever scored the

first mark was sure of the second.

Bloomah was up before dawn on the fateful winter morning; she could

run no risks of being late. She polished off all her house-work,

wondering anxiously if any of her classmates would oversleep herself,

yet at heart confident that all were as eager as she. Still there was

always that troublesome small-pox----! She breathed a prayer that God

would keep all the little girls and send them the Banner.

As she sat at breakfast the postman brought a post-card for her

mother. Bloomah's heart was in her mouth when Mrs. Beckenstein clucked

her tongue in reading it. She felt sure that the epidemic had invaded

one of those numerous family hearths.

Her mother handed her the card silently.

'DEAR MOTHER,

'I am rakked with neuraljia. Send Bloomah to fry the fish.

'BECKY.'

Bloomah turned white; this was scarcely less tragic.

'Poor Becky!' said her heedless parent.

'There's time after school,' she faltered.

'What!' shrieked Mrs. Beckenstein. 'And not give the fish time to get

cold! It's that red mark again--sooner than lose it you'd see your own

sister eat hot fish. Be off at once to her, you unnatural brat, or

I'll bang the frying-pan about your head. That'll give you a red

mark--yes, and a black mark, too! My poor Becky never persecuted me

with Banners, and she's twice the scholard you are.'

'Why, she can't spell "neuralgia,"' said Bloomah resentfully.

'And who wants to spell a thing like that? It's bad enough to feel it.

Wait till you have babies and neuralgy of your own, and you'll see how

you'll spell.'

'She can't spell "racked" either,' put in Daniel.

His mother turned on him witheringly. 'She didn't go to school with

the _Meshummodim_.'

Bloomah suddenly picked up her satchel.

'What's your books for? You don't fry fish with books.' Mrs.

Beckenstein wrested it away from her, and dashed it on the floor. The

pencil-case rolled one way, the thimble another.

'But I can get to school for the afternoon attendance.'

'Madness! With your sister in agony? Have you no feelings? Don't let

me see your brazen face before the Sabbath!'

Bloomah crept out broken-hearted. On the way to Becky's her feet

turned of themselves by long habit down the miry street in which the

red-brick school-building rose in dreary importance. The sight of the

great iron gate and the hurrying children caused her a throb of guilt.

For a moment she stood wrestling with the temptation to enter.

It was but for the moment. She might rise to the heresy of _hot_ fried

fish in lieu of cold, but Becky's Sabbath altogether devoid of fried

fish was a thought too sacrilegious for her childish brain.

From her earliest babyhood chunks of cold fried fish had been part of

her conception of the Day of Rest. Visions and odours of her mother

frying plaice and soles--at worst, cod or mackerel--were inwoven with

her most sacred memories of the coming Sabbath; it is probable she

thought Friday was short for frying-day.

With a sob she turned back, hurrying as if to escape the tug of

temptation.

'Bloomah! Where are you off to?'

It was the alarmed cry of a classmate. Bloomah took to her heels, her

face a fiery mass of shame and grief.

Towards midday Becky's fish, nicely browned and sprigged with parsley,

stood cooling on the great blue willow-pattern dish, and Becky's

neuralgia abated, perhaps from the mental relief of the spectacle.

When the clock struck twelve, Bloomah was allowed to scamper off to

school in the desperate hope of saving the afternoon attendance.

The London sky was of lead, and the London pavement of mud, but her

heart was aglow with hope. As she reached the familiar street a

certain strangeness in its aspect struck her. People stood at the

doors gossiping and excited, as though no Sabbath pots were a-cooking;

straggling groups possessed the roadway, impeding her advance, and as

she got nearer to the school the crowd thickened, the roadway became

impassable, a gesticulating mob blocked the iron gate.

Poor Bloomah paused in her breathless career ready to cry at this

malicious fate fighting against her, and for the first time allowing

herself time to speculate on what was up. All around her she became

aware of weeping and wailing and shrieking and wringing of hands.

The throng was chiefly composed of Russian and Roumanian women of the

latest immigration, as she could tell by the pious wigs hiding their

tresses. Those in the front were pressed against the bars of the

locked gate, shrieking through them, shaking them with passion.

Although Bloomah's knowledge of Yiddish was slight--as became a scion

of an old English family--she could make out their elemental

ejaculations.

'You murderers!'

'Give me my Rachel!'

'They are destroying our daughters as Pharaoh destroyed our sons.'

'Give me back my children, and I'll go back to Russia.'

'They are worse than the Russians, the poisoners!'

'O God of Abraham, how shall I live without my Leah?'

On the other side of the bars the children--released for the

dinner-interval--were clamouring equally, shouting, weeping, trying to

get to their mothers. Some howled, with their sleeves rolled up, to

exhibit the upper arm.

'See,' the women cried, 'the red marks! Oh, the poisoners!'

A light began to break upon Bloomah's brain. Evidently the School

Board had suddenly sent down compulsory vaccinators.

'I won't die,' moaned a plump golden-haired girl. 'I'm too young to

die yet.'

'My little lamb is dying!' A woman near Bloomah, with auburn wisps

showing under her black wig, wrung her hands. 'I hear her

talk--always, always about the red mark. Now they have given it her.

She is poisoned--my little apple.'

'Your little carrot is all right,' said Bloomah testily. 'They've only

vaccinated her.'

The woman caught at the only word she understood. 'Vaccinate,

vaccinate!' she repeated. Then, relapsing into jargon and raising her

hands heavenward: 'A sudden death upon them all!'

Bloomah turned despairingly in search of a wigless woman. One stood at

her elbow.

'Can't you explain to her that the doctors mean no harm?' Bloomah

asked.

'Oh, don't they, indeed? Just you read this!' She flourished a

handbill, English on one side, Yiddish on the other.

Bloomah read the English version, not without agitation:

'Mothers, look after your little ones! The School Tyrants are plotting

to inject filthy vaccine into their innocent veins. Keep them away

rather than let them be poisoned to enrich the doctors.'

There followed statistics to appal even Bloomah. What wonder if the

refugees from lands of persecution--lands in which anything might

happen--believed they had fallen from the frying-pan into the fire; if

the rumour that executioners with instruments had entered the

school-buildings had run like wildfire through the quarter, enflaming

Oriental imagination to semi-madness.

While Bloomah was reading, a head-shawled woman fainted, and the din

and frenzy grew.

'But I was vaccinated when a baby, and I'm all right,' murmured

Bloomah, half to reassure herself.

'My arm! I'm poisoned!' And another pupil flew frantically towards the

gate.

The women outside replied with a dull roar of rage, and hurled

themselves furiously against the lock.

A window on the playground was raised with a sharp snap, and the

head-mistress appeared, shouting alternately at the children and the

parents; but she was neither heard nor understood, and a Polish crone

shook an answering fist.

'You old maid--childless, pitiless!'

Shrill whistles sounded and resounded from every side, and soon a

posse of eight policemen were battling with the besiegers, trying to

push themselves between them and the gate. A fat and genial officer

worked his way past Bloomah, his truncheon ready for action.

'Don't hurt the poor women,' Bloomah pleaded. 'They think their

children are being poisoned.'

'I know, missie. What can you do with such greenhorns? Why don't they

stop in their own country? I've just been vaccinated myself, and it's

no joke to get my arm knocked about like this!'

'Then show them the red marks, and that will quiet them.'

The policeman laughed. A sleeveless policeman! It would destroy all

the dignity and prestige of the force.

'Then I'll show them mine,' said Bloomah resolutely. 'Mine are old

and not very showy, but perhaps they'll do. Lift me up, please--I mean

on your unvaccinated arm.'

Overcome by her earnestness the policeman hoisted her on his burly

shoulder. The apparent arrest made a diversion; all eyes turned

towards her.

'You _Narronim_!' (fools), she shrieked, desperately mustering her

scraps of Yiddish. 'Your children are safe. Ich bin vaccinated. Look!'

She rolled up her sleeve. 'Der policeman ist vaccinated. Look--if I

tap him he winces. See!'

'Hold on, missie!' The policeman grimaced.

'The King ist vaccinated,' went on Bloomah, 'and the Queen, and the

Prince of Wales, yes, even the Teachers themselves. There are no

devils inside there. This paper'--she held up the bill--'is lies and

falsehood.' She tore it into fragments.

'No; it is true as the Law of Moses,' retorted a man in the mob.

'As the Law of Moses!' echoed the women hoarsely.

Bloomah had an inspiration. 'The Law of Moses! Pooh! Don't you know

this is written by the _Meshummodim_?'

The crowd looked blank, fell silent. If, indeed, the handbill was

written by apostates, what could it hold but Satan's lies?

Bloomah profited by her moment of triumph. 'Go home, you _Narronim_!'

she cried pityingly from her perch. And then, veering round towards

the children behind the bars: 'Shut up, you squalling sillies!' she

cried. 'As for you, Golda Benjamin, I'm ashamed of you--a girl of your

age! Put your sleeve down, cry-baby!'

Bloomah would have carried the day had not her harangue distracted the

police from observing another party of rioters--women, assisted by

husbands hastily summoned from stall and barrow, who were battering at

a side gate. And at this very instant they burst it open, and with a

great cry poured into the playground, screaming and searching for

their progeny.

The police darted round to the new battlefield, expecting an attack

upon doors and windows, and Bloomah was hastily set down in the

seething throng and carried with it in the wake of the police, who

could not prevent it flooding through the broken side gate.

The large playground became a pandemonium of parents, children,

police, and teachers all shouting and gesticulating. But there was no

riot. The law could not prevent mothers and fathers from snatching

their offspring to their bosoms and making off overjoyed. The children

who had not the luck to be kidnapped escaped of themselves, some

panic-stricken, some merely mischievous, and in a few minutes the

school was empty.

* * * * *

The School Management Committee sat formally to consider this

unprecedented episode. It was decided to cancel the attendance for the

day. Red marks, black marks--all fell into equality; the very ciphers

were reduced to their native nothingness. The school-week was made to

end on the Thursday.

Next Monday morning saw Bloomah at her desk, happiest of a radiant

sisterhood. On the wall shone the Banner.

THE BEARER OF BURDENS

When her Fanny did at last marry, Natalya--as everybody called the old

clo'-woman--was not over-pleased at the bargain. Natalya had imagined

beforehand that for a matronly daughter of twenty-three, almost past

the marrying age, any wedding would be a profitable transaction. But

when a husband actually presented himself, all the old dealer's

critical maternity was set a-bristle. Henry Elkman, she insisted, had

not a true Jewish air. There was in the very cut of his clothes a

subtle suggestion of going to the races.

It was futile of Fanny to insist that Henry had never gone to the

races, that his duties as bookkeeper of S. Cohn's Clothing Emporium

prevented him from going to the races, and that the cut of his clothes

was intended to give tone to his own establishment.

'Ah, yes, he does not take _thee_ to the races,' she insisted in

Yiddish. 'But all these young men with check suits and flowers in

their buttonholes bet and gamble and go to the bad, and their wives

and children fall back on their old mothers for support.'

'I shall not fall back on thee,' Fanny retorted angrily.

'And on whom else? A pretty daughter! Would you fall back on a

stranger? Or perhaps you are thinking of the Board of Guardians!' And

a shudder of humiliation traversed her meagre frame. For at sixty she

was already meagre, had already the appearance of the venerable

grandmother she was now to become, save that her hair, being only a

pious wig, remained rigidly young and black. Life had always gone hard

with her. Since her husband's death, when Fanny was a child, she had

scraped together a scanty livelihood by selling odds and ends for a

mite more than she gave for them. At the back doors of villas she

haggled with miserly mistresses, gentlewoman and old-clo' woman linked

by their common love of a bargain.

Natalya would sniff contemptuously at the muddle of ancient finery on

the floor and spurn it with her foot. 'How can I sell that?' she would

inquire. 'Last time I gave you too much--I lost by you.' And having

wrung the price down to the lowest penny, she would pay it in clanking

silver and copper from a grimy leather bag she wore hidden in her

bosom; then, cramming the goods hastily into the maw of her sack, she

would stagger joyously away. The men's garments she would modestly

sell to a second-hand shop, but the women's she cleaned and turned and

transmogrified and sold in Petticoat Lane of a Sunday morning;

scavenger, earth-worm, and alchemist, she was a humble agent in the

great economic process by which cast-off clothes renew their youth and

freshness, and having set in their original sphere rise endlessly on

other social horizons.

Of English she had, when she began, only enough to bargain with; but

in one year of forced intercourse with English folk after her

husband's death she learnt more than in her quarter of a century of

residence in the Spitalfields Ghetto.

Fanny's function had been to keep house and prepare the evening meal,

but the old clo'-woman's objection to her marriage was not selfish.

She was quite ready to light her own fire and broil her own bloater

after the day's tramp. Fanny had, indeed, offered to have her live in

the elegant two-roomed cottage near King's Cross which Henry was

furnishing. She could sleep in a convertible bureau in the parlour.

But the old woman's independent spirit and her mistrust of her

son-in-law made her prefer the humble Ghetto garret. Against all

reasoning, she continued to feel something antipathetic in Henry's

clothes and even in his occupation--perhaps it was really the

subconscious antagonism of the old clo' and the new, subtly symbolic

of the old generation and the smart new world springing up to tread it

down. Henry himself was secretly pleased at her refusal. In the first

ardours of courtship he had consented to swallow even the Polish crone

who had strangely mothered his buxom British Fanny, but for his own

part he had a responsive horror of old clo'; felt himself of the great

English world of fashion and taste, intimately linked with the burly

Britons whose girths he recorded from his high stool at his

glass-environed desk, and in touch even with the _lion comique_, the

details of whose cheap but stylish evening dress he entered with a

proud flourish.

The years went by, and it looked as if the old woman's instinct were

awry. Henry did not go to the races, nor did Fanny have to fall back

on her mother-in-law for the maintenance of herself and her two

children, Becky and Joseph. On the contrary, she doubled her position

in the social scale by taking a four-roomed house in the Holloway

Road. Its proximity to the Clothing Emporium enabled Henry to come

home for lunch. But, alas! Fanny was not allowed many years of

enjoyment of these grandeurs and comforts. The one-roomed grave took

her, leaving the four-roomed house incredibly large and empty. Even

Natalya's Ghetto garret, which Fanny had not shared for seven years,

seemed cold and vacant to the poor mother. A new loneliness fell upon

her, not mitigated by ever rarer visits to her grandchildren. Devoid

of the link of her daughter, the house seemed immeasurably aloof from

her in the social scale. Henry was frigid and the little ones went

with marked reluctance to this stern, forbidding old woman who

questioned them as to their prayers and smelt of red-herrings. She

ceased to go to the house.

And then at last all her smouldering distrust of Henry Elkman found

overwhelming justification.

Before the year of mourning was up, before he was entitled to cease

saying the _Kaddish_ (funeral hymn) for her darling Fanny, the wretch,

she heard, was married again. And married--villainy upon villainy,

horror upon horror--to a Christian girl, a heathen abomination.

Natalya was wrestling with her over-full sack when she got the news

from a gossiping lady client, and she was boring holes for the passage

of string to tie up its mouth. She turned the knife viciously, as if

it were in Henry Elkman's heart.

She did not know the details of the piquant, tender courtship between

him and the pretty assistant at the great drapery store that

neighboured the Holloway Clothing Emporium, any more than she

understood the gradual process which had sapped Henry's instinct of

racial isolation, or how he had passed from admiration of British ways

into entire abandonment of Jewish. She was spared, too, the knowledge

that latterly her own Fanny had slid with him into the facile paths of

impiety; that they had ridden for a breath of country air on Sabbath

afternoons. They had been considerate enough to hide that from her. To

the old clo'-woman's crude mind, Henry Elkman existed as a monster of

ready-made wickedness, and she believed even that he had been married

in church and baptized, despite that her informant tried to console

her with the assurance that the knot had been tied in a Registrar's

office.

'May he be cursed with the boils of Pharaoh!' she cried in her

picturesque jargon. 'May his fine clothes fall from his flesh and his

flesh from his bones! May my Fanny's outraged soul plead against him

at the Judgment Bar! And she--this heathen female--may her death be

sudden!' And she drew the ends of the string tightly together, as

though round the female's neck.

'Hush, you old witch!' cried the gossip, revolted; 'and what would

become of your own grandchildren?'

'They cannot be worse off than they are now, with a heathen in the

house. All their Judaism will become corrupted. She may even baptize

them. Oh, Father in Heaven!'

The thought weighed upon her. She pictured the innocent Becky and

Joseph kissing crucifixes. At the best there would be no _kosher_ food

in the house any more. How could this stranger understand the

mysteries of purging meat, of separating meat-plates from

butter-plates?

At last she could bear the weight no longer. She took the Elkman house

in her rounds, and, bent under her sack, knocked at the familiar door.

It was lunch-time, and unfamiliar culinary smells seemed wafted along

the passage. Her morbid imagination scented bacon. The orthodox amulet

on the doorpost did not comfort her; it had been left there,

forgotten, a mute symbol of the Jewish past.

A pleasant young woman with blue eyes and fresh-coloured cheeks opened

the door.

The blood surged to Natalya's eyes, so that she could hardly see.

'Old clo',' she said mechanically.

'No, thank you,' replied the young woman. Her voice was sweet, but it

sounded to Natalya like the voice of Lilith, stealer of new-born

children. Her rosy cheek seemed smeared with seductive paint. In the

background glistened the dual crockery of the erst pious kitchen which

the new-comer profaned. And between Natalya and it, between Natalya

and her grandchildren, this alien girlish figure seemed to stand

barrier-wise. She could not cross the threshold without explanations.

'No, no,' replied Mrs. Mendel reassuringly. 'I caught sight of her