"It's right you should. I think it is very kind of you to come here as you do, but I want you to oblige me and not come to-morrow night. It is Friday, and the shop will be closed, so you would be wasting your time. That would be foolish." "Yes, it would," said Ted, somewhat bewildered. "Shall we come on Saturday night?" "Certainly, if you think proper. Then you will not be here to-morrow?" "We won't, as you'd rather not, Mr. Cohen." "Thank you; I am really obliged to you. Now go and join your army." Ted Kite turned away, walked a step or two, and returned. "But I say, Mr. Cohen----" "Well, my lad?" "Do you like it?" "Do I like it?" echoed Aaron, with a sly chuckle. "Should I speak to you as I am doing if I didn't? It is as good as a play. I think it is very nice of you--very nice, very nice indeed!" "Oh," said Ted in a crestfallen tone. As Aaron took pleasure in the persecution it was not half such good fun as it had been. "He says he likes it," he said to his comrades when he was among them. "He says it's as good as a play." "How much did he give you?" they inquired, feeling as he did in respect of the fun of their proceedings. "He didn't give me nothing." "We saw him hold out his hand to you," they protested. "You saw us shake hands, that's what you saw. Let's get on with the game; we don't want to be kept waiting here all night." They went on with the game, calling "Jew! Jew! Jew!" half-heartedly. Putting the pecuniary reward out of the question, it was a game that was becoming rather monotonous. They had to call for quite a quarter of an hour before Aaron paid them; and this time he paid them with two pennies only. The children fell on the ground, and scraped the stones for more, but found none, and they retired grumbling, discontented, and suspicious of each other's honesty. On Friday night, the Sabbath eve, Aaron and Rachel had peace; and on Saturday night the children made their appearance again and gave forth their chorus. Aaron came to the door and stood there smoking his pipe and smiling at them. But he did not throw any money to them. They did not know what to make of it. Their voices grew weaker and weaker, they wandered about discontentedly, they declared it was not fair on Mr. Cohen's part. "We'll try him again on Monday night," they said. They tried him again on Monday night, and he stood on his steps, commending them, but he gave them no more money. There was no heart whatever now in their invectives. They were not philosophers, and did not know that the course Aaron had pursued had taken the sting out of their tails. "He likes it," they said to each other as they strolled off moodily, "and he wants us to come here and scream our throats dry without being paid for it. Well, we aint going to do it. We won't call him Jew any more if he wants us ever so much. It aint likely, now, is it? What does he mean by treating us so shabby?" These young rapscallions thought the world was out of joint.