'Oh no, but she has won two breach of promise cases.'

'She must be getting old.'

'She is a fine young woman, but the young men are afraid of her now.'

'Then they don't sit on the stairs in the morning any more?'

'No; young men seem so much less romantic nowadays,' said Debby, sighing; 'besides, there is one flight less now, and half the stairs face the street door. The next flight was so private----'

'I suppose I shall look in and see them all,' said Esther, smiling; 'but tell me, is Mrs. Simons living here still?'

'No.'

'Where, then? I should like to see her; she was so very kind to little Sarah, you know. Nearly all our fried fish came from her.'

'She is dead; she died of cancer; she suffered a great deal.'

'Oh!' Esther put her cup down and sat back with face grown white. 'I am afraid to ask about any one else,' she said at last. 'I suppose the Sons of the Covenant are getting on all right; _they_ can't be dead--at least, not all of them.'

'They have split up,' said Debby gravely, 'into two communities. Mr.

Belcovitch and the Shalotten Shammos quarrelled about the sale of _Mitzvahs_ at the Rejoicing of the Law two years ago. As far as I could gather, the carrying of the smallest scroll of the Law was knocked down to the Shalotten Shammos for eighteenpence, but Mr.

Belcovitch, who had gone outside a moment, said he had bought up the privilege in advance, to present to Daniel Hyams, who was a visitor, and whose old father had just died in Jerusalem. There was nearly a free fight in the _Shool_. So the Shalotten Shammos seceded with nineteen followers and their wives and set up a rival _Chevrah_ round the corner. The other twenty-five still come here. The deserters tried to take Greenberg the Chazan with them, but Greenberg wanted a stipulation that they wouldn't engage an extra Reader to do his work during the High Festivals; he even offered to do it cheaper if they would let him do all the work, but they wouldn't consent. As a compromise, they proposed to replace him only on the Day of Atonement, as his voice was not agreeable enough for that. But Greenberg was obstinate. Now I believe there is a movement for the Sons of the Covenant to connect their _Chevrah_ with the Federation of Minor Synagogues, but Mr. Belcovitch says he won't join the Federation unless the term "Minor" is omitted. He is a great politician now.'

'Ah! I dare say he reads the _Flag of Judah_,' said Esther, laughing, though Debby recounted all this history quite seriously. 'Do you ever see that paper?'

'I never heard of it before,' said Debby simply. 'Why should I waste money on new papers when I can always forget the _London Journal_ sufficiently? Perhaps Mr. Belcovitch buys it; I have seen him with a Yiddish paper. The "hands" say that instead of breaking off suddenly in the middle of a speech, as of old, he sometimes stops pressing for five minutes together to denounce Gideon, the member for Whitechapel, and to say that Mr. Henry Goldsmith is the only possible saviour of Judaism in the House of Commons.'

'Ah, then he does read the _Flag of Judah_! His English must have improved.'

'I was glad to hear him say that,' added Debby, when she had finished struggling with the fit of coughing brought on by too much monologue, 'because I thought it must be the husband of the lady who was so good to you. I never forgot her name.'

Esther took up the _London Journal_ to hide her reddening cheeks.

'Oh, read some of it aloud,' cried Dutch Debby. 'It'll be like old times.'

Esther hesitated, a little ashamed of such childish behaviour. But, deciding to fall in for a moment with the poor woman's humour, and glad to change the subject, she read:

'"Soft scents steeped the dainty conservatory in delicious drowsiness.

Reclining on a blue silk couch, her wonderful beauty rather revealed than concealed by the soft, clinging drapery she wore, Rosaline smiled bewitchingly at the poor young peer, who could not pluck up courage to utter the words of flame that were scorching his lips. The moon silvered the tropical palms, and from the brilliant ball-room were wafted the sweet penetrating strains of the 'Blue Danube' waltz."'

Dutch Debby heaved a great sigh of rapture.

'And you have seen such sights?' she said in awed admiration.

'I have been in brilliant ball-rooms and moonlit conservatories,' said Esther evasively. She did not care to rob Dutch Debby of her ideals by explaining that high life was not all pa.s.sion and palm-trees.

'I am so glad,' said Debby affectionately. 'I have often wished to myself, only a make-believe wish, you know, not a real wish, if you understand what I mean, for of course I know it's impossible. I sometimes sit at that window before going to bed and look at the moon as it silvers the swaying clothes-props, and I can easily imagine they are great tropical palms, especially when an organ is playing round the corner. Sometimes the moon shines straight down on Bobby's tombstone, and then I am glad. Ah, now you're smiling! I know you think me a crazy old thing.'

'Indeed, indeed, dear, I think you are the darlingest creature in the world!' and Esther jumped up and kissed her to hide her emotion. 'But I mustn't waste your time,' she said briskly; 'I know you have your sewing to do. It's too long to tell you my story now; suffice it to say, as the _London Journal_ says, that I am going to take a lodging in the neighbourhood. Oh dear, don't make those great eyes! I want to live in the East End.'

'You want to live here like a princess in disguise; I see.'

'No, you don't, you romantic old darling! I want to live here like everybody else. I'm going to earn my own living.'

'Oh, but you never can live by yourself.'

'Why not? Now from romantic you become conventional. _You've_ lived by yourself.'

'Oh, but I'm different!' said Debby, flushing.

'Nonsense, I'm just as good as you. But if you think it improper'--here Esther had a sudden idea--'come and live with me.'

'What, be your chaperon?' cried Debby in responsive excitement; then her voice dropped again. 'Oh no! how could I?'

'Yes, yes, you must,' said Esther eagerly.

Debby's obstinate shake of the head repelled the idea.

'I couldn't leave Bobby,' she said. After a pause she asked timidly, 'Why not stay here?'

'Don't be ridiculous,' Esther answered. Then she examined the bed.

'Two couldn't sleep here,' she said.

'Oh yes, they could,' said Debby thoughtfully bisecting the blanket with her hand; 'and the bed's quite clean, or I wouldn't venture to ask you. Maybe it's not so soft as you've been used to.'

Esther pondered; she was fatigued, and she had undergone too many poignant emotions already to relish the hunt for a lodging. It was really lucky this haven offered itself.

'I'll stay for to-night, anyhow,' she announced, while Debby's face lit up as with a bonfire of joy. 'To-morrow we'll discuss matters further; and now, dear, can I help you with your sewing?'

'No, Esther, thank you kindly. You see, there's only enough for one,'

said Debby apologetically; 'to-morrow there may be more. Besides, you were never as clever with your needle as your pen. You always used to lose marks for needlework, and don't you remember how you herring-boned the tucks of those petticoats instead of feather-st.i.tching them? Ha, ha, ha! I have often laughed at the recollection.'

'Oh, that was only absence of mind!' said Esther, tossing her head in affected indignation. 'If my work isn't good enough for you, I think I'll go down and help Becky with her machine.'

She put on her bonnet, and not without curiosity descended a flight of stairs and knocked at a door which, from the steady whirr going on behind it, she judged to be that of the workroom.

'Art thou a man or a woman?' came in Yiddish the well-remembered tones of the valetudinarian lady.

'A woman,' answered Esther in German.

She was glad she had learned German; it would be the best subst.i.tute for Yiddish in her new old life.

'_Herein!_' said Mrs. Belcovitch with sentry-like brevity.

Esther turned the handle, and her surprise was not diminished when she found herself, not in the workroom, but in the invalid's bedroom. She almost stumbled over the pail of fresh water, the supply of which was always kept there. A coa.r.s.e, bouncing, full-figured young woman with frizzly black hair paused with her foot on the treadle of her machine to stare at the new-comer. Mrs. Belcovitch, attired in a skirt and a nightcap, stopped aghast in the act of combing out her wig, which hung over an edge of the back of a chair that served as a barber's block. Like the apple-woman, she fancied the apparition a lady philanthropist; and though she had long ceased to take charity, the old instincts leapt out under the sudden shock.

'Becky, quick, rub my leg with liniment--the thick one,' she whispered in Yiddish.

'It's only me--Esther Ansell!' cried the visitor.