Michael winked imperceptibly, flicked his trousers, and without further parley ran across the diagonal to Milly's house. Five minutes afterwards a deputation, consisting of a char-woman, waited upon Malka and said: "Missus says will you please come over, as baby is a-cryin' for its grandma." "Ah, that must be another pin," said Malka, with a gleam of triumph at her victory. But she did not budge. At the end of five minutes she rose solemnly, adjusted her wig and her dress in the mirror, put on her bonnet, brushed away a non-existent speck of dust from her left sleeve, put a peppermint in her mouth, and crossed the Square, carrying the clothes-brush in her hand. Milly's door was half open, but she knocked at it and said to the char-woman: "Is Mrs. Phillips in?" "Yes, mum, the company's all upstairs." "Oh, then I will go up and return her this myself." Malka went straight through the little crowd of guests to Milly, who was sitting on a sofa with Ezekiel, quiet as a lamb and as good as gold, in her arms. "Milly, my dear," she said. "I have come to bring you back your clothes-brush. Thank you so much for the loan of it." "You know you're welcome, mother," said Milly, with unintentionally dual significance. The two ladies embraced. Ephraim Phillips, a sallow-looking, close-cropped Pole, also kissed his mother-in-law, and the gold chain that rested on Malka's bosom heaved with the expansion of domestic pride. Malka thanked God she was not a mother of barren or celibate children, which is only one degree better than personal unfruitfulness, and testifies scarce less to the celestial curse. "Is that pin-mark gone away yet, Milly, from the precious little thing?" said Malka, taking Ezekiel in her arms and disregarding the transformation of face which in babies precedes a storm. "Yes, it was a mere flea-bite," said Milly incautiously, adding hurriedly, "I always go through his flannels and things most carefully to see there are no more pins lurking about." "That is right! Pins are like fleas--you never know where they get to," said Malka in an insidious spirit of compromise. "Where is Leah?" "She is in the back yard frying the last of the fish. Don't you smell it?" "It will hardly have time to get cold." "Well, but I did a dishful myself last night. She is only preparing a reserve in case the attack be too deadly." "And where is the _Cohen_?" "Oh, we have asked old Hyams across the Ruins. We expect him round every minute." At this point the indications of Ezekiel's facial barometer were fulfilled, and a tempest of weeping shook him. "_Na_! Go then! Go to the mother," said Malka angrily. "All my children are alike. It's getting late. Hadn't you better send across again for old Hyams?" "There's no hurry, mother," said Michael Birnbaum soothingly. "We must wait for Sam." "And who's Sam?" cried Malka unappeased. "Sam is Leah's _Chosan_," replied Michael ingenuously.