gation poured out, amid the buzz of mutual "Good _Yomtovs."_
Hannah rejoined her father, the sense of injury and revolt still surging
in her breast. In the fresh starlit air, stepping along the wet gleaming
pavements, she shook off the last influences of the synagogue; all her
thoughts converged on the meeting with David, on the wild flight
northwards while good Jews were sleeping off the supper in celebration
of their Redemption; her blood coursed quickly through her veins, she
was in a fever of impatience for the hour to come.

And thus it was that she sat at the _Seder_ table, as in a dream, with
images of desperate adventure flitting in her brain. The face of her
lover floated before her eyes, close, close to her own as it should have
been to-night had there been justice in Heaven. Now and again the scene
about her flashed in upon her consciousness, piercing her to the heart.
When Levi asked the introductory question, it set her wondering what
would become of him? Would manhood bring enfranchisement to him as
womanhood was doing to her? What sort of life would he lead the poor Reb
and his wife? The omens were scarcely auspicious; but a man's charter is
so much wider than a woman's; and Levi might do much without paining
them as she would pain them. Poor father! The white hairs were
predominating in his beard, she had never noticed before how old he was
getting. And mother--her face was quite wrinkled. Ah, well; we must all
grow old. What a curious man Melchitsedek Pinchas was, singing so
heartily the wonderful story. Judaism certainly produced some curious
types. A smile crossed her face as she thought of herself as his bride.

At supper she strove to eat a little, knowing she would need it. In
bringing some plates from the kitchen she looked at her hat and cloak,
carefully hung up on the peg in the hall nearest the street door. It
would take but a second to slip them on. She nodded her head towards
them, as who should say "Yes, we shall meet again very soon." During the
meal she found herself listening to the poet's monologues delivered in
his high-pitched creaking voice.

Melchitsedek Pinchas had much to say about a certain actor-manager who
had spoiled the greatest jargon-play of the century and a certain
labor-leader who, out of the funds of his gulls, had subsidized the
audience to stay away, and (though here the Reb cut him short for
Hannah's sake) a certain leading lady, one of the quartette of
mistresses o