n cut off in my sin, denying the Maker of Nature!" They walked
along the street together.

The next morning, at the luncheon-hour, a breathless Beadle, with a
red beard and a very red face, knocked joyously at the door of the
Herz garret.

"I am in work again," he explained.

"_Mazzeltov!_" Zussmann gave him the Hebrew congratulation, but
softly, with finger on lip, to indicate Hulda was asleep. "With whom?"

"Harris the _Gabbai_."

"Harris! What, despite your opinions?"

The Red Beadle looked away.

"So it seems!"

"Thank God!" said Hulda. "The Idea works."

Both men turned to the bed, startled to see her sitting up with a rapt
smile.

"How so?" said the Red Beadle uneasily. "I am not a _Goy_ (Christian)
befriended by a _Gabbai_."

"No, but it is the brotherhood of humanity."

"Bother the brotherhood of humanity, Frau Herz!" said the Red Beadle
gruffly. He glanced round the denuded room. "The important thing is
that you will now be able to have a few delicacies."

"_I?_" Hulda opened her eyes wide.

"Who else? What I earn is for all of us."

"God bless you!" said Zussmann; "but you have enough to do to keep
yourself."

"Indeed he has!" said Hulda. "We couldn't dream of taking a farthing!"
But her eyes were wet.

"I insist!" said the Red Beadle.

She thanked him sweetly, but held firm.

"I will advance the money on loan till Zussmann gets work."

Zussmann wavered, his eyes beseeching her, but she was inflexible.

The Red Beadle lost his temper. "And this is what you call the
brotherhood of humanity!"

"He is right, Hulda. Why should we not take from one another? Pride
perverts brotherhood."

"Dear husband," said Hulda, "it is not pride to refuse to rob the
poor. Besides, what delicacies do I need? Is not this a land flowing
with milk?"

"You take Cohen's milk and refuse my honey!" shouted the Red Beadle
unappeased.

"Give me of the honey of your tongue and I shall not refuse it," said
Hulda, with that wonderful smile of hers which showed the white teeth
Nature had made; the smile which, as always, melted the Beadle's mood.
That smile could repair all the ravages of disease and give back her
memoried face.

After the Beadle had been at work a day or two in the _Gabbai's_
workshop, he broached the matter of a fellow-penitent, one Zussmann
Herz, with no work and a bedridden wife.

"That _Meshummad!_" (apostate) cried the _Gabbai_." He deserves all
that God has sent him."

Undaunted,