Money was scarce; Norah had lost every penny of hers on the night that the hooligans attacked her. The other woman had only twenty-five shillings in her possession, and this went very quickly. Then Ellen called on the Jew, Isaac Levison, who had the pawnbroking business on the stair.
“D’ye ken the lass Norah Ryan?” Ellen enquired of the man, an undersized, genial-looking fellow with sharp eyes and a dark moustache.
“I know her,” said the Jew. He knew Ellen by sight and reputation; the kind way in which she was treating the girl was common talk on the stairs.
“I want the len’ o’ three pounds,” said Ellen. “I can only gie my promise to pay it back when I get work. Is that enough of a security?”
“I’ll take your word,” said the Jew, who was to some extent a judge of character, and who was kindly disposed towards the woman, having heard much that was good about her. “Five per cent.,” he added. “That’s extra good terms.”
When the doctor came the next day Ellen spoke to him.
“Cash is gey scarce here,” she said, “but do yer best for the girl and I’ll meet the bill some day. I’ll meet it, doctor, so help me God!”
The doctor smiled slightly; such protestations were not new to him. Besides, he was a kindly man.
“I’ll do my best for her,” he said. “And as to payment—well, we’ll see.”
“Ye’ll get paid,” said Ellen fiercely. “Ye must wait, but it doesn’t matter what happens, ye’ll get paid, mind that! Though the lass is no blood relation of mine, I dinna want ye to work for charity. And I’ll pay ye yer siller; aye, if I’ve to work my fingers to the bone to do it.”