"I am very glad to have such phylacteries on my arm, as you put it," he responded. "I fancy I should be a good deal froomer if my phylacteries were like that."
"What, aren't you frooms?" she said, as they joined the hungry procession in which she noted Bessie Sugarman on the arm of Daniel Hyams.
"No, I'm a regular wrong'un," he replied. "As for phylacteries, I almost forget how to lay them."
"That is bad," she admitted, though he could not ascertain her own point of view from the tone.
"Well, everybody else is just as bad," he said cheerfully. "All the old piety seems to be breaking down. It's Purim, but how many of us have been to hear the—the what do you call it?—the Megillah read? There is actually a minister here to-night bare-headed. And how many of us are going to wash our hands before supper or bensh afterwards, I should like to know. Why, it's as much as can be expected if the food's kosher, and there's no ham sandwiches on the dishes. Lord! how my old dad, God rest his soul, would have been horrified by such a party as this!"
"Yes, it's wonderful how ashamed Jews are of their religion outside a synagogue!" said Hannah musingly. "My father, if he were here, would put on his hat after supper and bensh, though there wasn't another man in the room to follow his example."
"And I should admire him for it," said David, earnestly, "though I admit I shouldn't follow his example myself. I suppose he's one of the old school."
"He is Reb Shemuel," said Hannah, with dignity.
"Oh, indeed!" he exclaimed, not without surprise, "I know him well. He used to bless me when I was a boy, and it used to cost him a halfpenny a time. Such a jolly fellow!"
"I'm so glad you think so," said Hannah flushing with pleasure.