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There had been sharp domestic discussions during the week, and Becky had only sniffed at her parents' commendations of Shosshi as a "very worthy youth." She declared that it was "remission of sins merely to look at him." Next Sabbath Mr. and Mrs. Belcovitch paid a formal visit to Shosshi's parents to make their acquaintance, and partook of tea and cake.
"Who spoke to thee?" demanded Belcovitch, incensed. "Who spoke to thee?" echoed Becky. And when Shosshi, with empurpled pimples, cowered before both, father and daughter felt allies again, and peace was re-established at Shosshi's expense. But Esther's curiosity was satisfied. She seemed to see the whole future of this domestic group: Belcovitch accumulating gold-pieces and Mrs.
Belcovitch carefully pouring out tablespoonfuls of medicine. There were even some outside "hands," work being unusually plentiful, as from the manifestos of Simon Wolf, the labor-leader, the slop manufacturers anticipated a strike. Sustained by their presence, Shosshi felt a bold and gallant wooer.
Becky rushed from the room and Shosshi heard her giggling madly on the staircase. It dawned upon him that he had displayed bad taste in his selection. "What have you done to my child?" Mrs. Belcovitch inquired. "N-n-othing," he stammered; "I only brought her some of my work to see." "And is this what one shows to a young girl?" demanded the mother indignantly.
Belcovitch and the Shalotten Shammos quarrelled about the sale of the 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 spoke as if at the close of a long career devoted to avoiding Dutch alliances, forgetting that not even one of his daughters was yet secure. "Nor any girl of mine," said Mrs. Belcovitch, as if starting a separate proposition. "I would not trust a Dutchman with my medicine-bottle, much less with my Alte or my Becky.
The sickly-looking little woman chatted to him for hours at a time about her ailments and invited him to taste her medicine, which was a compliment Mrs. Belcovitch passed only to her most esteemed visitors. By and by she even wore her night-cap in his presence as a sign that he had become one of the family.
Beenah and I have sold a few little trinkets which our children gave us, and we have reckoned that with six pounds more we shall be able to take steerage passages and just exist till I get work." "But six pounds is a very great sum without sureties," said Belcovitch, rubbing his time-worn workaday high hat in his agitation.
"Ah, that was good," he murmured. "Not like thy English drinks, eh?" said Mr. Belcovitch. "England!" snorted Pesach in royal disdain. "What a country! Daddle-doo is a language and ginger-beer a liquor." "Daddle doo" was Pesach's way of saying "That'll do." It was one of the first English idioms he picked up, and its puerility made him facetious.
"To peace!" replied the older man, gulping down the spirit. Shosshi was doing the same, when his eye caught Becky's. He choked for five minutes, Mrs. Belcovitch thumping him maternally on the back. When he was comparatively recovered the sense of his disgrace rushed upon him and overwhelmed him afresh. Becky was still giggling behind the sewing machine.
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