'_Schtuss!_' said the great marriage-broker. 'Three days after the Fast of Atonement comes the Feast of Tabernacles. The Almighty, blessed be He, who created both light and darkness, has made obedient females as well as pleasure-seeking jades.' And he blew his nose emphatically into his bandanna. 'Yes; but she won't return me my ring,' Elias lamented. 'What!' Sugarman gasped. 'Then she considers herself still engaged to you.' 'Not at all. She laughs in my face.' 'And she has given you back your promise?' 'My promise--yes. The ring--no.' 'But on what ground?' 'She says I gave it to her.' Sugarman clucked his tongue. 'Tututu! Better if we had followed our old custom, and the man had worn the engagement-ring, not the woman!' 'In the workshop,' Elias went on miserably, 'she flashes it in my eyes. Everybody makes mock. Oh, the Jezebel!' 'I should summons her!' 'It would only cost me more. Is it not true I gave her the ring?' Sugarman mopped his brow. His vast experience was at fault. No maiden had ever refused to return his client's ring; rather had she flung it in the wooer's false teeth. 'This comes of your love matches!' he cried sternly. 'Next time there must be a proper contract.' 'Next time!' repeated Elias. 'Why how am I to afford a new ring? Fanny was ruinous in cups of chocolate and the pit of the Pavilion Theatre!' 'I should want my fee down!' said Sugarman sharply. Elias shrugged his shoulders. 'If you bring me the ring.' 'I do not get old rings but new maidens,' Sugarman reminded him haughtily. 'However, as you are a customer----' and crying 'Five per cent. on the greengrocer's daughter,' he hurried away ere Elias had time to dissent from the bargain. Donning his sealskin vest to overawe the Fershts, Sugarman ploughed his way up the dark staircase to their room. His attire was wasted on the family, for Fanny herself opened the door. 'Peace to you,' he cried. 'I have come on behalf of Elias Goldenberg.' 'It is useless. I will not have him.' And she was shutting the door. Her misconception, wilful or not, scattered all Sugarman's prepared diplomacies. 'He does not want you, he wants the ring,' he cried hastily. Fanny indecorously put a finger to her nose. The diamond glittered mockingly on it. Then she turned away giggling. 'But look at this photograph!' panted Sugarman desperately through the closing door. Surprise and curiosity brought her eyes back. She stared at the sheepish features of a frock-coated stranger. 'Four pounds a week all the year round, head cutter at S. Cohn's,' said Sugarman, pursuing this advantage. 'A good old English family; Benjamin Beckenstein is his name, and he is dying to step into Elias's shoes.' 'His feet are too large!' And she flicked the photograph floorwards with her bediamonded finger. 'But why waste the engagement-ring?' pleaded Sugarman, stooping to pick up the suitor. 'What an idea! A new man, a new ring!' And Fanny slammed the door.