Children of the Ghetto

'Not altogether. The Belcovitches have gone up in the world. They live on the first floor now.'

'Not much of a rise that,' said Esther smiling, for the Belcovitches had always lived on the third floor.

'Oh, they could have gone to a better street altogether,' explained Debby, 'only Mr. Belcovitch didn't like the expense of a van.'

'Then, Sugarman the Shadchan must have moved, too,' said Esther. 'He used to have the first floor.'

'Yes, he's got the third now. You see, people get tired of living in the same place. Then Ebenezer, who became very famous through writing a book (so he told me), went to live by himself, so they didn't want to be so grand. The back apartment at the top of the house you used once to inhabit,'-Debby put it as delicately as she could-'is vacant. The last family had the brokers in.'

'Are the Belcovitches all well? I remember Fanny married and went to Manchester before I left here.'

'Oh yes, they are all well.'

'What? Even Mrs. Belcovitch?'

'She still takes medicine, but she seems just as strong as ever.'

'Becky married yet?'

'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 now-a-days,' said Debby, sighing. 'Besides there's 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 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, 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 behavior. But, deciding to fall in for a moment with the poor woman's humor, 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 draperies 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 passion 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're 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 neighborhood. 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 can never 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