"Hush!" said Sugarman sternly, "do you forget it is the Sabbath? Be assured I shall not charge more than last time, unless the bride has an extra good dowry."
On Saturday night immediately after Havdalah, Sugarman went to Mr. Belcovitch, who was just about to resume work, and informed him he had the very Chosan for Becky. "I know," he said, "Becky has a lot of young men after her, but what are they but a pack of bare-backs? How much will you give for a solid man?"
After much haggling Belcovitch consented to give twenty pounds immediately before the marriage ceremony and another twenty at the end of twelve months.
"But no pretending you haven't got it about you, when we're at the Shool, no asking us to wait till we get home," said Sugarman, "or else I withdraw my man, even from under the Chuppah itself. When shall I bring him for your inspection?"
"Oh, to-morrow afternoon, Sunday, when Becky will be out in the park with her young men. It's best I shall see him first!"
Sugarman now regarded Shosshi as a married man! He rubbed his hands and went to see him. He found him in a little shed in the back yard where he did extra work at home. Shosshi was busy completing little wooden articles—stools and wooden spoons and moneyboxes for sale in Petticoat Lane next day. He supplemented his wages that way.
"Good evening, Shosshi," said Sugarman.
"Good evening," murmured Shosshi, sawing away.
Shosshi was a gawky young man with a blotched sandy face ever ready to blush deeper with the suspicion that conversations going on at a distance were all about him. His eyes were shifty and catlike; one shoulder overbalanced the other, and when he walked, he swayed loosely to and fro. Sugarman was rarely remiss in the offices of piety and he was nigh murmuring the prayer at the sight of monstrosities. "Blessed art Thou who variest the creatures." But resisting the temptation he said aloud, "I have something to tell you."
Shosshi looked up suspiciously.