ut won't we be terribly late?" said poor Raphael.

"We shall be out to-day," responded Gluck cheerfully. "We shall be in
time for the Sabbath, and that's the important thing. Don't you see
they're half-printed already?" He indicated a huge pile of sheets.
Raphael examined them with beating heart. "We've only got to print 'em
on the other side and the thing's done," said Gluck.

"Where are your machines?"

"There," said Gluck, pointing.

"That hand-press!" cried Raphael, astonished. "Do you mean to say you
print them all with your own hand?"

"Why not?" said the dauntless Gluck. "I shall wrap them up for the
post, too." And he shut himself up with the last of the "copy."

Raphael having exhausted his interest in the half-paper, fell to
striding about the little shop, when who should come in but Pinchas,
smoking a cigar of the Schlesinger brand.

"Ah, my Prince of Redacteurs," said Pinchas, darting at Raphael's hand
and kissing it. "Did I not say you vould produce the finest paper in the
kingdom? But vy have I not my copy by post? You must not listen to
Ebenezer ven he says I must not be on the free list, the blackguard."

Raphael explained to the incredulous poet that Ebenezer had not said
anything of the kind. Suddenly Pinchas's eye caught sight of the sheets.
He swooped down upon them like a hawk. Then he uttered a shriek of
grief.

"Vere's my poem, my great poesie?"

Raphael looked embarrassed.

"This is only half the paper," he said evasively.

"Ha, then it vill appear in the other half, _hein_?" he said with hope
tempered by a terrible suspicion.

"N--n--o," stammered Raphael timidly.

"No?" shrieked Pinchas.

"You see--the--fact is, it wouldn't scan. Your Hebrew poetry is perfect,
but English poetry is made rather differently and I've been too busy to
correct it."

"But it is exactly like Lord Byron's!" shrieked Pinchas. "Mein Gott! All
night I lie avake--vaiting for the post. At eight o'clock the post
comes--but _The Flag of Judah_ she vaves not! I rush round here--and now
my beautiful poem vill not appear." He seized the sheet again, then
cried fiercely: "You have a tale, 'The Waters of Babylon,' by Ebenezer
the fool-boy, but my poesie have you not. _Gott in Himmel_!" He tore the
sheet frantically across and rushed from the shop. In five minutes he
reappeared. Raphael was absorbed in reading the last proof. Pinchas
plucked timidly at his coat-tails.

"You vill put it in next veek?" he said w