Part 9 (1/2)
”I'd rather marry a man with two pounds a week if I loved him,” said Hannah in a low tone.
”Not in this century,” said Miriam, shaking her head incredulously. ”We don't believe in that nonsense now-a-days. There was Alice Green,--she used to talk like that,--now look at her, riding about in a gig side by side with a bald monkey.”
”Alice Green's mother,” interrupted Malka, p.r.i.c.king up her ears, ”married a son of Mendel Weinstein by his third wife, Dinah, who had ten pounds left her by her uncle Shloumi.”
”No, Dinah was Mendel's second wife,” corrected Mrs. Jacobs, cutting short a remark of Mrs. Phillips's in favor of the new interest.
”Dinah was Mendel's third wife,” repeated Malka, her tanned cheeks reddening. ”I know it because my Simon, G.o.d bless him, was breeched the same month.”
Simon was Malka's eldest, now a magistrate in Melbourne.
”His third wife was Kitty Green, daughter of the yellow Melammed,”
persisted the Rebbitzin. ”I know it for a fact, because Kitty's sister Annie was engaged for a week to my brother-in-law Nathaniel.”
”His first wife,” put in Malka's husband, with the air of arbitrating between the two, ”was Shmool the publican's eldest daughter.”
”Shmool the publican's daughter,” said Malka, stirred to fresh indignation, ”married Hyam Robins, the grandson of old Benjamin, who kept the cutlery shop at the corner of Little Eden Alley, there where the pickled cuc.u.mber store stands now.”
”It was Shmool's sister that married Hyam Robins, wasn't it, mother?”
asked Milly, incautiously.
”Certainly not,” thundered Malka. ”I knew old Benjamin well, and he sent me a pair of chintz curtains when I married your father.”
”Poor old Benjamin! How long has he been dead?” mused Reb Shemuel's wife.
”He died the year I was confined with my Leah----”
”Stop! stop!” interrupted Sam Levine boisterously. ”There's Leah getting as red as fire for fear you'll blab out her age.”
”Don't be a fool, Sam,” said Leah, blus.h.i.+ng violently, and looking the lovelier for it.
The attention of the entire company was now concentrated upon the question at issue, whatever it might be. Malka fixed her audience with her piercing eye, and said in a tone that scarce brooked contradiction: ”Hyam Robins couldn't have married Shmool's sister because Shmool's sister was already the wife of Abraham the fishmonger.”
”Yes, but Shmool had two sisters,” said Mrs. Jacobs, audaciously a.s.serting her position as the rival genealogist.
”Nothing of the kind,” replied Malka warmly.
”I'm quite sure,” persisted Mrs. Jacobs. ”There was Phoeby and there was Harriet.”
”Nothing of the kind,” repeated Malka. ”Shmool had three sisters. Only two were in the deaf and dumb home.”
”Why, that, wasn't Shmool at all,” Milly forgot herself so far as to say, ”that was Block the Baker.”
”Of course!” said Malka in her most acid tone. ”My _kinder_ always know better than me.”
There was a moment of painful silence. Malka's eye mechanically sought the clothes-brush. Then Ezekiel sneezed. It was a convulsive ”atichoo,”
and agitated the infant to its most intimate flannel-roll.
”For thy Salvation do I hope, O Lord,” murmured Malka, piously, adding triumphantly aloud, ”There! the _kind_ has sneezed to the truth of it. I knew I was right.”