As he ascended his steps, Emmanuel slyly slipped a folded, printed paper out of his breast-pocket; and leaning over the railings, gently dropped it into the next-door letter-box. The same instant his front-door was opened by Hannah, the ever-indignant, eldest daughter of the house. "Those people have been at it again!" she said, and angrily crumpled up and threw down a circular she had just taken out of the letter-box. "The thame thort?" her father asked, shutting the door quietly. "Yes, of course, this is the ninety-second they’ve dropped in. It makes me wild! I’ve made up my mind when the hundredth comes--if it does come--to give Aaron Hyam’s youngest tuppence to break their kitchen window." "Don’t waste yer money like that; am I a millionaire?" He picked up and smoothed out the circular, and began to read it aloud: "’Thothiety for the Conversion of the Jews; an evenin’ meetin’ with addretheth.’ Oh, put it with the retht, Max will make a spill of it. Leave it to Papa, dear. I’ve got a better plan for dealing with ’em; I’ve begun to put it in practice already." "’Ave you, Dad? I’d like to scratch that little nincompoop of a son of theirs. He makes me mad with his soppy smile, and sandy whiskers, and conceited sanctimoniousness. I’d give ’im hymns at the street corner." "A much better plan, my clear. You may as well give me them little billths--all of ’em. They’ll be useful. They’re poor, ain’t they?" "They are--as synagogue rats--if the faces of the tradespeople are anything to go by." Hannah was very vicious. "Well, then, leave it to me. Every time they invite us to be converted, I invite them to borrow money from me--from Jabez Gordon. They’ve ’ad fourteen of my circulars already. I gave ’em a fifteenth to-day. That’th the best bait for those birds. Trust Daddy, my dear. They will bite--that sort of body always does. Trutht a hymn-smiter for a quiet gamble; and then----" "You will fleece them?" she cried, with fierce exultation. Something of Jephthah’s daughter, of Deborah, of Hagar, of the ancient heroines of Israel, lived in her breast. "Oh no, Hannah! Fleeth! we never fleeth. I will help them to some very good bithness, that ith all." "That will do!" she said. "They convert _us_! The fools!" "And ith the shirt well aired?" he asked. "I’m nervouth of cold white shirts." "You’ll find everything all right, Dad. Your bath-water will soon be ready. Mother’s in the drawing-room ironing your dress trousers. Now don’t you worry. Just wait while I’m putting your things ready, and listen to a tune on the gramophone. You’ve plenty of time. The brougham won’t be ’ere for a good hour yet." He went into the drawing-room. June fluttered above him. Her brightness was faintly reflected on his dingy bald head. She was strangely curious for a high-minded fairy. The home of want she had seen; now for the home of the master!