Esther had heard that same phrase twenty years thrice a day. Like all actors Samuels had but a poor vocabulary of his own. Relying on other men to supply them the tools of expression, actors are poor word finders. Then, the night of the first performance, Samuels would warm up near some one, and as the "rôle" appeared he would sadly say, "My rôle, look what he is making with my rôle." Twenty years of daily hopes and daily disappointments. A whole world grew up before him. He knew nothing of it at all. Stark's Café was New York, America. The whole world was comprised between his home and this place. His hair turned gray, the corners of his mouth drooped, his eyes dimmed, his shoulders stooped. His wife grew old, his daughter bloomed into youth and withered from overwork. There came the Boer War, several earthquakes, the Balkan War, and now this Great War. All this left Samuels cold and indifferent. All those years he was waiting at Stark's Café for an engagement. "Maybe to-day." And this haven of hope has disappeared. BECAUSE OF BOOKKEEPING "Nominations for treasurer are now in order. Nominations!" "Moishe Goldberg"--"Moishe Goldberg"--"Moishe Goldberg," called out every one present at the yearly election of the Roumanian Sick Benefit Society. "Any other nominations?" the Secretary asked. "No, no, go ahead; it's Moishe Goldberg again, Mr. Secretary." "He's good enough, good enough, Mr. Secretary." And so Moishe Goldberg was elected Treasurer of the Society by acclamation. It was a yearly performance--since the last twenty years. And this was not the only society for which Moishe Goldberg was Treasurer--there were a dozen. Every Jewish-Roumanian Society of New York wanted to have him act as Treasurer. Once he promised to accept the nomination, no other man would care to run against him, and the yearly election was merely a formality turned into flattery as far as he was concerned. His probity and financial responsibility were above par. His charity was proverbial. * * * * * At thirty he came from Roumania with his wife and two little girls. With the few dollars he had brought with him he opened a little grocery store on Clinton Street which prospered and developed into a bigger store on Rivington Street. Of a religious, old-fashioned turn of mind, he followed old Jewish traditions. His store closed Friday night, it remained so over Saturday; he also kept closed every Jewish holiday. He let his beard grow, and went regularly to the synagogue near Forsythe Street. When he heard that some one chided him about his religious punctiliousness, he said: "I came here because I wanted religious freedom--what I have I want to use." "Moishe Goldberg, money is needed for a new scroll." "Put me down for a third of what it costs to get one." When a woman bought less food than usual, Goldberg would ask, "What's the matter?" "Husband is out of work."