“He gave me to understand,” he went on, “that he knew perfectly well it was his wine glass I was after, and not his daughter. That I was counting on his dying soon, and already looked forward to selling that precious glass to spend the money in riotous living. And when I told him that Barbara and I loved each other, he said ‘Bosh!’ and forbade me to speak of it again.” The rabbi puffed in silence for a moment. “He evidently has not a flattering opinion of you, my young friend.” “He knows nothing against me!” Reuben hurriedly exclaimed. “It is only because I want Barbara. He would say the same to anyone else that asked for his daughter. You know me, rabbi; you have known me a long time, ever since I was a child. I do not pretend to be an angel, but I am not bad. I love the girl, and I can take good care of her. I don’t want to see his old wine glass again. I’d smash it into a——” Reuben’s jaw fell, and his eyes stared vacantly at the wall. The rabbi followed his gaze, and, seeing nothing, turned to Reuben in surprise. “What is it?” he asked. “Nothing,” replied Reuben, with a sheepish grin. “I—I just happened to think of something.” The rabbi frowned. “If you are often taken with such queer ideas that make you look so idiotic, I don’t think I can blame Zalman so very much.” But Reuben’s contrite expression immediately caused him to regret his momentary annoyance, and holding out his hand, he said, affectionately: “Come, Reuben, I will do what I can for you. You are a good boy, and if you and the girl love each other I will see if there is not some way of overcoming her father’s objections.” Taking Reuben by the arm he led him into Zalman’s shop. Zalman was not alone. A little shrivelled old man, evidently a connoisseur of _objets d’art_, was holding the wonderful wine glass to the light, gloating over the bewildering play of colours that flashed from it, while Zalman anxiously hovered about him, eager to receive the glass in his own hands again, yet proudly calling the old man’s attention to its hidden beauties. Barbara stood in the doorway that led to the living-rooms in the rear. When she saw Reuben she blushed and smiled. Zalman looked up and saw the rabbi and smiled; saw who was with him and frowned. “I just dropped in to have a little chat,” said the rabbi, “but there is no hurry. I will wait until you are disengaged.” The connoisseur carefully set the glass upon the counter, and heaved a long, painful sigh. “And no price will tempt you to part with it?” he asked. Zalman shook his head and grinned. What followed happened with exceeding swiftness.