f such a thing? Poor people telling me
what to do, haggling with me over my wanting to give them a good dinner
and a nice present each, and saying they must be paid in rubles,
otherwise it's no bargain, ha! ha! For two guldens each it's not worth
their while? It cost them too much to stock the ware? Thirty kopeks
wouldn't pay them? I like their impertinence! Mischief take them, I
shall do without them!

"Let the musicians play! Where is the beadle? They can begin putting the
veil on the bride."

But directly afterwards he waved his hands.

"Wait a little longer. It is still early. Why should it happen to _me_,
why should my pleasure be spoilt? Now I've got to marry my youngest
daughter without a dinner to the poor! I would have given them half a
ruble each, it's not the money I mind, but fancy bargaining with me!
Well, there, I have done my part, and if they won't come, I'm sure
they're not wanted; afterwards they'll be sorry; they don't get a
wedding like this every day. We shall do without them."

"Well, can they put the veil on the bride?" the beadle came and
inquired.

"Yes, they can.... No, tell them to wait a little longer!"

Nearly all the guests, who were tired of waiting, cried out that the
tramps could very well be missed.

Reb Yitzchok-Aizik's face suddenly assumed another expression, the anger
vanished, and he turned to me and a couple, of other friends, and asked
if we would drive to the town, and parley with the revolted
almsgatherers.

"He has no brains, one can't depend on him," he said, referring to the
messenger.

A horse was harnessed to a conveyance, and we drove off, followed by the
mounted messenger.

"A revolt--a strike of almsgatherers, how do you like that?" we asked
one another all the way. We had heard of workmen striking, refusing to
work except for a higher wage, and so forth, but a strike of
paupers--paupers insisting on larger alms as pay for eating a free
dinner, such a thing had never been known.

In twenty minutes time we drove into Lipovietz.

In the market-place, in the centre of the town, stood the three great
peasant wagons, furnished with fresh straw. The small horses were
standing unharnessed, eating out of their nose-bags; round the wagons
were a hundred poor folk, some dumb, others lame, the greater part
blind, and half the town urchins with as many men.

All of them were shouting and making a commotion.

The Crooked One sat on a wagon, and banged it with his