old
instincts leaped out under the sudden shock.

"Becky, quick rub my leg with liniment, the thick one," she whispered in
Yiddish.

"It's only me, Esther Ansell!" cried the visitor.

"What! Esther!" cried Mrs. Belcovitch. "_Gott in Himmel!"_ and, throwing
down the comb, she fell in excess of emotion upon Esther's neck. "I have
so often wanted to see you," cried the sickly-looking little woman who
hadn't altered a wrinkle. "Often have I said to my Becky, where is
little Esther?--gold one sees and silver one sees, but Esther sees one
not. Is it not so, Becky? Oh, how fine you look! Why, I mistook you for
a lady! You are married--not? Ah well, you'll find wooers as thick as
the street dogs. And how goes it with the father and the family in
America?"

"Excellently," answered Esther. "How are you, Becky?"

Becky murmured something, and the two young women shook hands. Esther
had an olden awe of Becky, and Becky was now a little impressed by
Esther.

"I suppose Mr. Weingott is getting a good living now in Manchester?"
Esther remarked cheerfully to Mrs. Belcovitch.

"No, he has a hard struggle," answered his mother-in-law, "but I have
seven grandchildren, God be thanked, and I expect an eighth. If my poor
lambkin had been alive now, she would have been a great-grandmother. My
eldest grandchild, Hertzel, has a talent for the fiddle. A gentleman is
paying for his lessons, God be thanked. I suppose you have heard I won
four pounds on the lotter_ee_. You see I have not tried thirty years for
nothing! If I only had my health, I should have little to grumble at.
Yes, four pounds, and what think you I have bought with it? You shall
see it inside. A cupboard with glass doors, such as we left behind in
Poland, and we have hung the shelves with pink paper and made loops for
silver forks to rest in--it makes me feel as if I had just cut off my
tresses. But then I look on my Becky and I remember that--go thou
inside, Becky, my life! Thou makest it too hard for him. Give him a
word while I speak with Esther."

Becky made a grimace and shrugged her shoulders, but disappeared through
the door that led to the real workshop.

"A fine maid!" said the mother, her eyes following the girl with pride.
"No wonder she is so hard to please. She vexes him so that he eats out
his heart. He comes every morning with a bag of cakes or an orange or a
fat Dutch herring, and now she has moved her machine to my bedroom,
where he can't follow her,