“But a Synagogue is a sweet place,” put in Mrs. Baker; “though of course it wouldn’t do for Letty. But I’m sure the Hebrew ceremony is beautiful, even if one can’t understand a word of it, because they pronounce it upside down, don’t they? I remember going once to see a Jewish girl we knew get married; such a good-looking girl ... dear thing ... Laura Silberstein; did you know her, Mr.——?”
“Levi,” supplemented Sebastian gravely, wishing it had been something worse.
“And I remember too that the white flowers and the satin tent and that lovely singing made me feel—I told Mr. Baker afterwards—quite as religious and miserable as if I’d been to one of our own weddings. And he had no objection at all, and said I might certainly go again every time the younger sisters married; there were eight Silberstein girls, you see. And he told me to take Violet next time. Mr. Baker liked us always to be nice to Jews; he was very particular about that.”
Sebastian had a happy moment picturing Mr. Baker being particular about it. He was sorry Mr. Baker was dead.
“And did the other seven poor girls get married?” Letty enquired earnestly, very sorry for them because they could not all or any marry Sebastian.
“Only one; Pearl, the youngest; and she married a High Church gentleman, and got quickly baptised, and it was held at St. George’s, Hanover Square. And that time,” Mrs. Baker concluded triumphantly, “my husband would not let me attend. He said Jews were delightful and clever people in their faith, but disapproved of them marrying out of it.”
... Then she realized the horror of her mistake.
Letty slipped her fingers into Sebastian’s arm, and looked defiantly at the purpling Mrs. Baker. Mrs. Johnson said hurriedly:
“Of course they are quite wonderfully clever; such a head for business. That’s why we’re so sorry, Sebastian, that you gave up your partnership at the Stores.”