CHAPTER IX[ToC]
THE 'FLAG' FLUTTERS
The Flag of Judah, price one penny, largest circulation of any Jewish organ, continued to flutter, defying the battle, the breeze, and its communal contemporaries. At Passover there had been an illusive augmentation of advertisements proclaiming the virtues of unleavened everything. With the end of the Festival most of these fell out, staying as short a time as the daffodils. Raphael was in despair at the meagre attenuated appearance of the erst prosperous-looking pages. The weekly loss on the paper weighed upon his conscience.
'We shall never succeed,' said the sub-editor, shaking his romantic hair, 'till we run it for the Upper Ten. These ten people can make the paper, just as they are now killing it by refusing their countenance.'
'But they must surely reckon with us sooner or later,' said Raphael.
'It will be a long reckoning, I fear; you take my advice, and put in more butter. It'll be kosher butter, coming from us.'
The little Bohemian laughed as heartily as his eyeglass permitted.
'No; we must stick to our guns. After all, we have had some very good things lately. Those articles of Pinchas's are not bad, either.'
'They're so beastly egotistical. Still, his English is improving, and his theories are ingenious, and far more interesting than those terribly dull long letters of Goldsmith, which you will put in.'