Part 35 (2/2)

Next Sabbath Mr. and Mrs. Belcovitch paid a formal visit to Shoss.h.i.+'s parents to make their acquaintance, and partook of tea and cake. Becky was not with them; moreover she defiantly declared she would never be at home on a Sunday till Shoss.h.i.+ was married. They circ.u.mvented her by getting him up on a weekday. The image of Becky had been so often in his thoughts now that by the time he saw her the second time he was quite habituated to her appearance. He had even imagined his arm round her waist, but in practice he found he could go no further as yet than ordinary conversation.

Becky was sitting sewing b.u.t.tonholes when Shoss.h.i.+ arrived. Everybody was there--Mr. Belcovitch pressing coats with hot irons; f.a.n.n.y shaking the room with her heavy machine; Pesach Weingott cutting a piece of chalk-marked cloth; 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 antic.i.p.ated a strike.

Sustained by their presence, Shoss.h.i.+ felt a bold and gallant wooer. He determined that this time he would not go without having addressed at least one remark to the object of his affections. Grinning amiably at the company generally, by way of salutation, he made straight for Becky's corner. The terribly fine lady snorted at the sight of him, divining that she had been out-manoeuvred. Belcovitch surveyed the situation out of the corners of his eyes, not pausing a moment in his task.

”_Nu_, how goes it, Becky?” Shoss.h.i.+ murmured.

Becky said, ”All right, how are you?”

”G.o.d be thanked, I have nothing to complain of,” said Shoss.h.i.+, encouraged by the warmth of his welcome. ”My eyes are rather weak, still, though much better than last year.”

Becky made no reply, so Shoss.h.i.+ continued: ”But my mother is always a sick person. She has to swallow bucketsful of cod liver oil. She cannot be long for this world.”

”Nonsense, nonsense,” put in Mrs. Belcovitch, appearing suddenly behind the lovers. ”My children's children shall never be any worse; it's all fancy with her, she coddles herself too much.”

”Oh, no, she says she's much worse than you,” Shoss.h.i.+ blurted out, turning round to face his future mother-in-law.

”Oh, indeed!” said Chayah angrily. ”My enemies shall have my maladies!

If your mother had my health, she would be lying in bed with it. But I go about in a sick condition. I can hardly crawl around. Look at my legs--has your mother got such legs? One a thick one and one a thin one.”

Shoss.h.i.+ grew scarlet; he felt he had blundered. It was the first real shadow on his courts.h.i.+p--perhaps the little rift within the lute. He turned back to Becky for sympathy. There was no Becky. She had taken advantage of the conversation to slip away. He found her again in a moment though, at the other end of the room. She was seated before a machine. He crossed the room boldly and bent over her.

”Don't you feel cold, working?”

_Br-r-r-r-r-r-h_!

It was the machine turning. Becky had set the treadle going madly and was pus.h.i.+ng a piece of cloth under the needle. When she paused, Shoss.h.i.+ said:

”Have you heard Reb Shemuel preach? He told a very amusing allegory last--”

_Br-r-r-r-r-r-r-h_!

Undaunted, Shoss.h.i.+ recounted the amusing allegory at length, and as the noise of her machine prevented Becky hearing a word she found his conversation endurable. After several more monologues, accompanied on the machine by Becky, Shoss.h.i.+ took his departure in high feather, promising to bring up specimens of his handiwork for her edification.

On his next visit he arrived with his arms laden with choice morsels of carpentry. He laid them on the table for her admiration.

They were odd k.n.o.bs and rockers for Polish cradles! The pink of Becky's cheeks spread all over her face like a blot of red ink on a piece of porous paper. Shoss.h.i.+'s face reflected the color in even more ensanguined dyes. Becky rushed from the room and Shoss.h.i.+ 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.

”They are only bits of cradles,” said Shoss.h.i.+ deprecatingly. ”I thought she would like to see what nice workmanly things I turned out. See how smoothly these rockers are carved! There is a thick one, and there is a thin one!”

”Ah! Shameless droll! dost thou make mock of my legs, too?” said Mrs.

Belcovitch. ”Out, impudent face, out with thee!”

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