"What if it were my Phineas!" exclaimed Abigail, her tears dropping fast on the needlework she held. "Oh, it is a thousand times worse than death!"
Out in the street the boys were making each other's acquaintance in the off-hand way boys of that age have.
"My name is Jesse. What's yours?"
"Joseph."
"Where do you live?"
"Around the corner, next to the synagogue."
"My father is a carpenter. What's yours?"
Joseph hesitated. "He used to be an oil-seller," he said finally. "He doesn't do anything now."
"Why?" persisted Jesse.
"He is a leper now," was the reluctant answer.