“What might that signify to you?”
“Moch, moch, daughter Shoodith; a great deal.”
“You’re a mysterious old man, father Jacob; and, though I’ve been studying you for nearly a score of years, I don’t half understand you yet. But what did he say of Kate Vaughan? He saw her, I suppose?”
“Yesh. He had an interview with her. He saysh she behaved very kind to him. He’sh not angry with her. S’help me, no!”
This information appeared to produce no very pleasant impression upon the Jewess; who, with her eyes downcast upon the floor, remained for some moments in a thoughtful attitude.
“Father,” she said, in a tone half serious, half in simplicity, “the young fellow has got a bit of blue ribbon in his button-hole. You have noticed it, I suppose? I am curious to know what he means by wearing that. Is it an order, or what? Did he tell you?”
“No. I notished it; but, ash he shayed nothings about it, I did not ashk him. It’sh no order—nothing of the kind. His father was only a poor artisht.”
“I wonder where he procured that piece of ribbon?” said Judith, speaking in a low tone, and half in soliloquy.
“You can ashk him for yourself, Shoodith. There ish no harm in that.”
“No, not I,” answered Judith, suddenly changing countenance, as if ashamed of having shown the weakness of curiosity. “What care I for him, or his ribbon?”