"If I were not sure," he answered merrily, "I would remain snug in this room. I am not a man of war; I am a man of peace, and with peaceful weapons will I scatter the enemy. For your dear sake I would not expose myself to peril, for do I not know that if I were hurt your pain would be greater than mine? It is my joy to know it. You will remain quietly here?" "I will, dear husband; but you will not go into the street?" "I shall go no farther than the street door; I shall not need to go farther." He stopped to fill his pipe and light it, and then, with tender kisses, and a smile on his lips, he left her. When he made his appearance at the shop door there was a sudden hush, and a sudden scuttling away of the twenty or thirty children who had congregated to revile him. He remained stationary at the door, smoking his pipe and gazing benignantly at them. Their fears of chastisement dispelled by his peaceful attitude, they stopped, looked over their shoulders, and slowly and warily came back, keeping, however, at a safe distance from him. They found their voices again. "Jew? Jew! Jew!" "Good children! good children!" said Aaron in a clear, mellifluous voice. Then he put his pipe to his mouth again, and continued to smoke. "Jew! Jew! Jew!" "Good little boys and girls," said Aaron. "Bravo! bravo! You deserve a reward. Every laborer is worthy of his hire." He drew from his pocket three or four pennies, which, with smiling nods of his head, he threw among them. Instantly came into play other passions--greed, avarice, the determination not to be defrauded of their due. Falling upon the money, they scrambled and fought for it. Aaron threw among them two or three more pennies, and their ardor increased. They scratched, they kicked, they tumbled over each other, blows were exchanged. Those who had secured pennies scampered away with them, and with loud and vengeful cries the penniless scampered after them. The next moment they had all disappeared. Shaking with internal laughter, Aaron remained on his steps a while, purring at his pipe; then he put up the shutters, locked the street door, and rejoined his wife. "My dear," he said, and his voice was so gay that her heart beat with joy, "that is the end of the first act. They will not come back to-night." CHAPTER XV. THE BATTLE IS FOUGHT AND WON.