“I suppose,” said Judith, “that the Samuel Sachses will have to be asked?”
She, though of course she had her admirers, was by no means such a success as her cousin.
“Yes, isn’t it a nuisance?” cried Rose; “and the Lazarus Harts.”
If there is a strong family feeling among the children of Israel, it takes often the form of acute family jealousy.
The Jew who will open his doors in reckless ignorance to every sort and condition of Gentile is morbidly sensitive as regards the social standing of the compatriot whom he admits to his hospitality.
The Leunigers, as we know, were not people of long standing in the Community, and numbered among their acquaintance Jews of every rank and shade; from the Cardozos, who were rich, cultivated, could almost trace their descent from Hillel, the son of David, and had a footing in English society, to such children of nature as the Samuel Sachses.
“We must have Nellie Hepburn and the Strettel girls,” went on Rose, consulting her list; “the men all rush at them, though I don’t see that they are so pretty myself.”
“I suppose they make a change from ourselves,” answered Judith smiling, “whose faces are known by heart.”
Judith was entering with spirit, with a zeal that was almost feverish, into the preparations for the forthcoming festivity.
She and Reuben had scarcely spoken to one another since the Day of Atonement. They had met once or twice at family gatherings, at which, either by accident, or design on Reuben’s part, there had been no opportunity for private conversation.