"You are the best blessing he can give me—and that's worth—well, I wouldn't venture to price it."
"It's not your line, eh?"
"I don't know, I have done a good deal in gems; but where is the
Rabbi?"
"Up in the bedrooms, gathering the Chomutz. You know he won't trust anybody else. He creeps under all the beds, hunting with a candle for stray crumbs, and looks in all the wardrobes and the pockets of all my dresses. Luckily, I don't keep your letters there. I hope he won't set something alight—he did once. And one year—Oh, it was so funny!—after he had ransacked every hole and corner of the house, imagine his horror, in the middle of Passover to find a crumb of bread audaciously planted—where do you suppose? In his Passover prayer-book!! But, oh!"—with a little scream—"you naughty boy! I quite forgot." She took him by the shoulders, and peered along his coat. "Have you brought any crumbs with you? This room's pesachdik already."
He looked dubious.
She pushed him towards the door. "Go out and give yourself a good shaking on the door-step, or else we shall have to clean out the room all over again."
"Don't!" he protested. "I might shake out that."
"What?"
"The ring."
She uttered a little pleased sigh.