s hat, and gave it a polish with his
sleeve.

"Just look and see if I haven't got any white on my coat off the wall!"

"If you haven't?" the wife answered, and began slapping him with both
hands over the shoulders.

"I thought we once had a little clothes-brush. Where is it? ha?"

"Perhaps you dreamt it," replied his wife, still slapping him on the
shoulders, and she went on, "Well, I should say you had got some white
on your coat!"

"Come, that'll do!" said Chayyim, almost angrily. "I'll go now."

He drew on his Sabbath overcoat with a sigh, and muttering, "Very
likely, isn't it, he'll lend me money!" he went out.

On the way to Loibe-Baeres, Chayyim's heart began to fail him. Since the
day that Loibe-Baeres came to live at the end of the street, Chayyim had
been in the house only twice, and the path Chayyim was treading now was
as bad as an examination: the "approach" to him, the light rooms, the
great mirrors, the soft chairs, Loibe-Baeres himself with his long, thick
beard and his black eyes with their "gevirish" glance, the lady, the
merry, happy children, even the maid, who had remained in his memory
since those two visits--all these things together terrified him, and he
asked himself, "Where are you going to? Are you mad? Home with you at
once!" and every now and then he would stop short on the way. Only the
thought that Ulas was near, and that he had no money to buy corn, drove
him to continue.

"He won't lend anything--it's no use hoping." Chayyim was preparing
himself as he walked for the shock of disappointment; but he felt that
if he gave way to that extent, he would never be able to open his mouth
to make his request known, and he tried to cheer himself:

"If I catch him in a good humor, he will lend! Why should he be afraid
of lending me a few rubles over the fair? I shall tell him that as soon
as ever I have sold the corn, he shall have the loan back. I will swear
it by wife and children, he will believe me--and I will pay it back."

But this does not make Chayyim any the bolder, and he tries another sort
of comfort, another remedy against nervousness.

"He isn't a bad man--and, after all, our acquaintance won't date from
to-day--we've been living in the same street twenty years--Parabotzker
Street--"

And Chayyim recollects that a fortnight ago, as Loibe-Baeres was passing
his house on his way to the market-place, and he, Chayyim, was standing
in the yard, he gave him the greeting due to a