Part 19 (2/2)

”Well, and what did Miss Hyams say then?” asked Debby, deeply interested.

”She said: 'Selina Green, and what did Moses do when the Children of Israel grumbled for water?' She just went on with the Scripture lesson, as if nothing had happened.”

”I should tell the Head Mistress who sent me on,” cried Debby indignantly.

”Oh, no,” said Esther shaking her head. ”That would be mean. It's a matter for her own conscience. Oh, but I do wish,” she concluded, ”we had had a holiday. It would have been so lovely out in the Park.”

Victoria Park was _the_ Park to the Ghetto. A couple of miles off, far enough to make a visit to it an excursion, it was a perpetual blessing to the Ghetto. On rare Sunday afternoons the Ansell family minus the _Bube_ toiled there and back _en ma.s.se_, Moses carrying Isaac and Sarah by turns upon his shoulder. Esther loved the Park in all weathers, but best of all in the summer, when the great lake was bright and busy with boats, and the birds twittered in the leafy trees and the lobelias and calceolarias were woven into wonderful patterns by the gardeners. Then she would throw herself down on the thick gra.s.s and look up in mystic rapture at the brooding blue sky and forget to read the book she had brought with her, while the other children chased one another about in savage delight. Only once on a Sat.u.r.day afternoon when her father was not with them, did she get Dutch Debby to break through her retired habits and accompany them, and then it was not summer but late autumn.

There was an indefinable melancholy about the sere landscape. Russet refuse strewed the paths and the gaunt trees waved fleshless arms in the breeze. The November haze rose from the moist ground and dulled the blue of heaven with smoky clouds amid which the sun, a red sailless boat, floated at anchor among golden and crimson furrows and glimmering far-dotted fleeces. The small lake was slimy, reflecting the trees on its borders as a network of dirty branches. A solitary swan ruffled its plumes and elongated its throat, doubled in quivering outlines beneath the muddy surface. All at once the splash of oars was heard and the sluggish waters were stirred by the pa.s.sage of a boat in which a heroic young man was rowing a no less heroic young woman.

Dutch Debby burst into tears and went home. After that she fell back entirely on Bobby and Esther and the _London Journal_ and never even saved up nine s.h.i.+llings again.

CHAPTER X.

A SILENT FAMILY.

Sugarman the _Shadchan_ arrived one evening a few days before Purim at the tiny two-storied house in which Esther's teacher lived, with little Nehemiah tucked under his arm. Nehemiah wore shoes and short red socks.

The rest of his legs was bare. Sugarman always carried him so as to demonstrate this fact. Sugarman himself was rigged out in a handsome manner, and the day not being holy, his blue bandanna peeped out from his left coat-tail, instead of being tied round his trouser band.

”Good morning, marm,” he said cheerfully.

”Good morning, Sugarman,” said Mrs. Hyams.

She was a little careworn old woman of sixty with white hair. Had she been more pious her hair would never have turned gray. But Miriam had long since put her veto on her mother's black wig. Mrs. Hyams was a meek, weak person and submitted in silence to the outrage on her deepest instincts. Old Hyams was stronger, but not strong enough. He, too, was a silent person.

”P'raps you're surprised,” said Sugarman, ”to get a call from me in my sealskin vest-coat. But de fact is, marm, I put it on to call on a lady.

I only dropped in here on my vay.”

”Won't you take a chair?” said Mrs. Hyams. She spoke English painfully and slowly, having been schooled by Miriam.

”No, I'm not tired. But I vill put Nechemyah down on one, if you permit.

Dere! Sit still or I _potch_ you! P'raps you could lend me your corkscrew.”

”With pleasure,” said Mrs. Hyams.

”I dank you. You see my boy, Ebenezer, is _Barmitzvah_ next _Shabbos_ a veek, and I may not be pa.s.sing again. You vill come?”

”I don't know,” said Mrs. Hyams hesitatingly. She was not certain whether Miriam considered Sugarman on their visiting list.

”Don't say dat, I expect to open dirteen bottles of lemonade! You must come, you and Mr. Hyams and the whole family.”

”Thank you. I will tell Miriam and Daniel and my husband.”

”Dat's right. Nechemyah, don't dance on de good lady's chair. Did you hear, Mrs. Hyams, of Mrs. Jonas's luck?”

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