save his
soul; otherwise he is a strong, sensible man. I can't account for it."

"The force of habit, perhaps," suggested Ruth.

"Probably. Jewish appetite is known to dote on the fat of the land."

That he said this with as little vituperation as if he had remarked on
the weather Ruth knew; and she felt no inclination to resent the remark,
although a vision of her cousin Jennie protesting did present itself.
Some Jewish people with diseased imaginations take every remark on the
race as a personal calumny.

"We always make the reservation that the fat be clean," she laughed.

Kemp flashed around at her.

"Miss Levice," he exclaimed contritely, "I completely forgot--I hope I
was not rude."

"Why, certainly not," she answered half merrily, half earnestly. "Why
should you be?"

"As you say, why should I be? Jewish individuals, of course, have
their faults like the rest of humanity. As a race, most of their
characteristics redound to their honor, in my estimation."

"Thank you," said the girl, quietly. "I am very proud of many Jewish
traits."

"Such as a high morality, loyalty, intelligence, filial respect, and
countless other things."

"Yes."

"Besides, it is wonderful how they hold the balance of power in the
musical and histrionic worlds. Still, to be candid, in comparison with
these, they do not seem to have made much headway in the other branches
of art. Can you explain it, Miss Levice?"

He waited deferentially for a reply.

"I was trying to think of a proper answer," she responded with earnest
simplicity; "and I think that their great musical and histrionic powers
are the results not so much of art as of passion inherited from times
and circumstances stern and sad since the race began. Painting and
sculpture require other things."

"Which the Jew cannot obtain?"

A soft glow overspread her face and mounted to her brow.

"Dr. Kemp," she answered, "we have begun. I should like to quote to you
the beautiful illustration with which one of our rabbis was inspired
to answer a clergyman asking the same question; but I should only spoil
that which in his mouth seemed eloquent."

"You would not, Miss Levice. Tell the story, please."

They were on level ground, and the doctor could disengage his attention
from the horses. He did not fail to note the emotion that lit up her
expressive face, and made her sweet voice tremble.

"It is the story of the Rose of Sharon. This is it briefly: A pilgrim
was abo