“Oh, it is quite _kosher_; it came from Abrahams’,” Mike answered quickly. “I would not offer it to you unless it were.” He poured out two wine-glasses full of port: it was ’57 port. Dinah clinked her glass against his, and drank. Then she looked at the ham again, and sighed. “Have a bit?” suggested her brother-in-law, with a sly wink. She shook her head, but it was not a very decided kind of shake. Then, after a moment’s pause, she said, with a feeble attempt at casuistry-- “Mike, the ham has rubbed shoulders with the chicken. They are both on the same dish, therefore one is no more _kosher_ than the other. I think you may give me a piece just about the size of a sixpence. I’ve never tasted it before in my life.” “Certainly,” he replied with alacrity. “Here, give me your plate. If you eat a little bit, it’s just as bad--or as good--as eating the whole lot. There--now what do you think of it?” Dinah cut a small piece, and pricked it with her fork. “‘Get a piece of pork,’” she murmured softly, “‘and stick it on a fork, and give it to the----’” Here she popped it into her mouth. “Oh, Mike, it’s positively scrumptious. But you won’t tell Ma, will you?” “Oh no, I won’t split on you,” he replied cheerfully. “You see, we are both in the same boat.” Pushing back his chair, he rose from the table; for a ring on the telephone claimed his attention. “Do you know who that was?” he said, when he sat down again. “It was Mr. Salmon talking from Manchester. I would have told him you were here, but there was no time.” “It is about David that I have come to see you,” Dinah began, somewhat nervously. “You must not tell anybody yet, but we are engaged.” Her brother-in-law raised his eyebrows. “You don’t say so!” he exclaimed. “Why, I thought that Ma----” “Yes, Ma and Pa are both against it,” she hastened to explain. “That is the trouble. But I have quite made up my mind not to have Mr. Finkelstein or any other snuffy old creature they may choose to rake up for me. I am going to marry the man I love, and that is David. Oh, I love him so much, Mike--awfully much! I feel I shall do something desperate if anything happens to prevent us from marrying.” She spoke quickly, and evidently meant what she said. Mike puckered up his brow, and having obtained the requisite permission, lit a cigar. “It’s a pity,” he said between the puffs. “Couldn’t you place your affections on somebody more reliable than Salmon? I don’t say he’s not a nice lad--in fact, I rather like him myself; but he is not steady, he doesn’t stick to his business. I should like to see you comfortably married, Di, but to somebody with more backbone than David Salmon.”