" say the Klemenke
shopkeepers and traders, "is a Heavenly blessing; were it not for Ulas,
Klemenke would long ago have been 'aeus Klemenke,' America would have
taken its last few remaining Jews to herself."

But for Ulas one must have the wherewithal--the shopkeepers need wares,
and the traders, money.

Without the wherewithal, even Ulas is no good! And Chayyim, the dealer
in produce, goes about gloomily. There are only three days left before
Ulas, and he hasn't a penny wherewith to buy corn to trade with. And the
other dealers in produce circulate in the market-place with caps awry,
with thickly-rolled cigarettes in their mouths and walking-sticks in
their hands, and they are talking hard about the fair.

"In three days it will be lively!" calls out one.

"Pshshsh," cries another in ecstasy, "in three days' time the place will
be packed!"

And Chayyim turns pale. He would like to call down a calamity on the
fair, he wishes it might rain, snow, or storm on that day, so that not
even a mad dog should come to the market-place; only Chayyim knows that
Ulas is no weakling, Ulas is not afraid of the strongest wind--Ulas is
Ulas!

And Chayyim's eyes are ready to start out of his head. A charitable
loan--where is one to get a charitable loan? If only five and twenty
rubles!

He asks it of everyone, but they only answer with a merry laugh:

"Are you mad? Money--just before a fair?"

And it seems to Chayyim that he really will go mad.

"Suppose you went across to Loibe-Baeres?" suggests his wife, who takes
her full share in his distress.

"I had thought of that myself," answers Chayyim, meditatively.

"But what?" asks the wife.

Chayyim is about to reply, "But I can't go there, I haven't the
courage," only that it doesn't suit him to be so frank with his wife,
and he answers:

"Devil take him! He won't lend anything!"

"Try! It won't hurt," she persists.

And Chayyim reflects that he has no other resource, that Loibe-Baeres is
a rich man, and living in the same street, a neighbor in fact, and that
_he_ requires no money for the fair, being a dealer in lumber and
timber.

"Give me out my Sabbath overcoat!" says Chayyim to his wife, in a
resolute tone.

"Didn't I say so?" the wife answers. "It's the best thing you can do, to
go to him."

Chayyim placed himself before a half-broken looking-glass which was
nailed to the wall, smoothed his beard with both hands, tightened his
earlocks, and then took off hi