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he descended, and the _Parnass_ proffered his presidential hand in pious congratulation upon the holy privilege, all the congregants who found themselves upon his line of return shot forth their arms with remorseful eagerness, and thus was Simeon Samuels switched on to the brotherhood of Sudminsterian Israel. Yet as his now trusting co-religionists passed his shop on their homeward walk--and many a pair of legs went considerably out of its way to do so--their eyes became again saucers of horror and amaze. The broad plate-glass glittered nakedly, unveiled by a single shutter; the waxen dummy of the sailor hitched devil-may-care breeches; the gold lace, ticketed with layers of erased figures, boasted brazenly of its cheapness; the procession of customers came and went, and the pavement, splashed with sunshine, remained imperturbably, perturbingly acquiescent. II On the Sunday night Solomon Barzinsky and Ephraim Mendel in pious black velvet caps, and their stout spouses in gold chains and diamond earrings, found themselves playing solo whist in the _Parnass's_ parlour, and their religious grievance weighed upon the game. The _Parnass_, though at heart as outraged as they by the new departure, felt it always incumbent upon him to display his presidential impartiality and his dry humour. His authority, mainly based on his being the only retired shopkeeper in the community, was greatly strengthened by his slow manner of taking snuff at a crisis. 'My dear Mendel,' observed the wizened senior, flicking away the spilth with a blue handkerchief, 'Simeon Samuels has already paid his annual subscription--and you haven't!' 'My money is good,' Mendel replied, reddening. 'No wonder he can pay so quickly!' said Solomon Barzinsky, shuffling the cards savagely. 'How he makes his money is not the question,' said the _Parnass_ weightily. 'He has paid it, and therefore if I were to expel him, as you suggest, he might go to Law.' 'Law!' retorted Solomon. 'Can't we prove he has broken the Law of Moses?' 'And suppose?' said the _Parnass_, picking up his cards placidly. 'Do we want to wash our dirty _Talysim_ (praying-shawls) in public?' 'He is right, Solomon,' said Mrs. Barzinsky. 'We should become a laughing-stock among the heathen.' 'I don't believe he'd drag us to the Christian courts,' the little man persisted. 'I pass.' The rubber continued cheerlessly. 'A man who keeps his shop open on Sabbath is capable of an
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