"Of course!" shouted Sam in a voice of thunder. "I divorce her at once." He guffawed hysterically: "What a pack of fools we are! Good old Jewish law!"
Leah's sobs ceased. Everybody except Mrs. Jacobs was smiling once more. Half a dozen, hands grasped the Maggid's; half a dozen others thumped him on the back. He was pushed into a chair. They gave him a glass of brandy, they heaped a plate with fried fish. Verily the Maggid, who was in truth sore ahungered, was in luck's way. He blessed Providence and the Jewish Marriage Law.
"But you had better not reckon that a divorce," he warned them between two mouthfuls. "You had better go to Reb Shemuel, the maiden's father, and let him arrange the Gett beyond reach of cavil."
"But Reb Shemuel is away," said Mrs. Jacobs.
"And I must go away, too, by the first train to-morrow," said Sam. "However, there's no hurry. I'll arrange to run up to town again in a fortnight or so, and then Reb Shemuel shall see that we are properly untied. You don't mind being my wife for a fortnight, I hope, Miss Jacobs?" asked Sam, winking gleefully at Leah. She smiled back at him and they laughed together over the danger they had just escaped. Hannah laughed too, in contemptuous amusement at the rigidity of Jewish Law.
"I'll tell you what, Sam, can't you come back for next Saturday week?" said Leah.
"Why?" asked Sam. "What's on?"
"The Purim Ball at the Club. As you've got to come back to give Hannah Gett, you might as well come in time to take me to the ball."
"Right you are," said Sam cheerfully.
Leah clapped her hands. "Oh that will be jolly," she said. "And we'll take Hannah with us," she added as an afterthought.