On this Monday night an incident occurred which never came to Aaron's ears. Prissy, hearing of the annoyance to which the Cohens were subjected, made her appearance as the boys were wandering disconsolately away, and without wasting time in asking questions, darted like a tiger-cat upon the biggest of them, and fixed her fingers in his hair. She had left Victoria Regina asleep on the coals in her aunt's shop, and had, so to speak, girded up her loins for the contest, by pinning up her ragged skirts and tucking up her sleeves to the shoulder. "What's that for?" cried the boy, struggling to get free. Prissy vouchsafed no explanation; the only words she uttered were addressed to the other boys. "Fair play. One at a time. I'm only a gal." Chivalry was not dead. They stood round the combatants, and witnessed the fight without interfering. It was a desperate encounter. Many an ugly blow did Prissy receive; but she depended upon her talons, and pulled such quantities of hair out of the big boy's head, and scratched his face so dreadfully, that he was at length driven to tears and entreaties to her to leave off. "Do yer want any more?" screamed Prissy, whose breath was almost gone. The big boy's answer was to run away, whimpering, and the other boys hooted him as he fled. "Would any other boy like to come on?" demanded the panting Prissy. Not one accepted the challenge, and Prissy, glaring at them as they followed their vanquished comrade, went back to Victoria Regina, and shed copious tears of indignant satisfaction over the sleeping babe. In this way it was that Aaron Cohen fought the battle and gained a bloodless victory. He laughed in his sleeve as he thought of it, and laughed aloud in his cosy little parlour when he related the whole affair to Rachel. "One shilling and eightpence has it cost me, my love," he said, "and I do not grudge the money. Show 'me the battle that has been won for less." Rachel was greatly relieved; but her dominant feeling was admiration for her husband's wisdom. "I do not believe any other man in the world would have thought of it," she said; and though Aaron shook his head in modest deprecation, he was justified in inwardly congratulating himself upon his astute tactics. The story got about, and the townspeople were much amused by it. "Mr. Cohen's a clever fellow," they said. He grew to be respected by them, and as the weeks passed by and it was seen that he was not only a fair-dealing but a kindly-hearted man, the innuendoes which Mr. Whimpole continued to circulate about him produced a very small effect. Mr. Whimpole was not pleased; where is the man who would have been in his position? Talking one night with Rachel over the animosity the corn-chandler bore towards the Jews, Aaron said,--