“That is the youth that threw my cap into a pool, a year ago, and called me a Jew cur,” said Delecresse, between his teeth.
“Pooh, pooh!” said old Hamon. “We all have to put up with those little amenities. Never mind it, child.”
“I’ll never mind it—till the time come!” answered Delecresse, in an undertone. “Then—I think I see how to wipe it off.”
Belasez found her mother returned from Lincoln. She received a warm welcome from Abraham, a much cooler one from Licorice, and was very glad, having arrived at home late, to go to bed in her own little chamber, which was inside that of her parents. She soon dropped asleep, but was awoke ere long by voices in the adjoining room, distinctly audible through the curtain which alone separated the chambers. They spoke in Spanish, the language usually employed amongst themselves by the English Sephardim.
“Ay de mi, (‘Woe is me!’) that it ever should have been so!” said the voice of Licorice. “What did the shiksah (Note 1) want with her?”
“I told thee, wife,” answered Abraham, in a slightly injured tone, “she wanted the child to embroider a scarf.”
“And I suppose thou wert too anxious to fill thy saddle-bags to care for the danger to her?”
“There was no danger at all, wife. The Countess promised all I asked her. And I made thirteen gold pennies clear profit. Thou canst see the child is no worse—they have been very kind to her: she said as much.”
“Abraham, son of Ursel, thou art a very wise man!”
“What canst thou mean, Licorice?”