for management, and
took charge of all the games when the children played Hebrew I-Spy
through the hallways and dark corners of the big, rambling and
mysterious "Red Shield."

Little Mayer must have been nine years old when his father first took
him along on one of his trips. It was a wonderful event--they were gone
three days, and when they returned the boy entertained the whole
Judengasse with tales, slightly hand-illumined, about the wonderful
things they had seen.

One thing he learned, and that was that Christians were not the drunken,
fighting, treacherous and bloodthirsty people he had supposed--at least,
they were not all bad. Not once were they insulted or molested.

They had called at the great house or castle of the Landgrave to sell
handkerchiefs, combs and beads to the servants, and accidentally they
had met the Landlord, himself. He it was who owned the "Red Shield." The
agent of the Landgrave came every month to collect the rent from
everybody. That word "Landgrave" simply meant "Landlord," a term still
used even in America, where there are, of course, no Lords, only
"ramrods."

The Landgrave had invited Anselm Moses into his library to see his
wonderful collection of coins, and Mayer Anselm, of course, slipped in,
too. To describe the wonders of that house would take a book as big as
the Torah--I think so!

The Landgrave had a son, aged eleven, going on twelve, and his name was
William. He wasn't so big as Mayer, and Mayer wouldn't be so old as
William for a year, and even then he wouldn't.

Children know nothing of social caste. Caste is a disease of grown-ups.
It is caused by uric acid in the ego. Children meet as equals--they
respond naturally without so much as a thought as to whether they ought
to love one another or not.

William got acquainted with Mayer by holding up a big speckled marble,
and then in a burst of good-fellowship giving the marble to the little
stranger boy, all before a word had been said. Then while the Landgrave
was showing his treasures to Anselm who himself was a collector in a
small way, the boys slipped out of the door, and William took Mayer to
see the stables. "What's it for?" asked William, pointing to the yellow
patch sewed tight to the breast of Mayer's jacket. "That?" answered
Mayer proudly, "why, that means that I am a Jew, and I live in the
Ghetto!" William gave a little start of alarm. He looked at the other
lad, so brown and sturdy and frankly open-eyed, a