“I--I know,” stammered Leibel, feeling himself somehow a liar as well as a thief. His brain was in a whirl; he could not remember how the thing had come about. Certainly he had not proposed; nor could he say that she had. “You know she will have you,” repeated Sugarman, reflectively. “And does _she_ know?” “Yes. In fact,” he blurted out, “we arranged it together.” “Ah, you both know. And does her father know?” “Not yet.” “Ah, then I must get his consent,” said Sugarman, decisively. “I--I thought of speaking to him myself.” “Yourself!” echoed Sugarman, in horror. “Are you unsound in the head? Why, that would be worse than the mistake you have already made!” “What mistake?” asked Leibel, firing up. “The mistake of asking the maiden herself. When you quarrel with her after your marriage she will always throw it in your teeth that you wished to marry her. Moreover, if you tell a maiden you love her, her father will think you ought to marry her as she stands. Still, what is done is done.” And he sighed regretfully. “And what more do I want? I love her.” “You piece of clay!” cried Sugarman, contemptuously. “Love will not turn machines, much less buy them. You must have a dowry. Her father has a big stocking; he can well afford it.” Leibel’s eyes lit up. There was really no reason why he should not have bread and cheese with his kisses. “Now, if _you_ went to her father,” pursued the Shadchan, “the odds are that he would not even give you his daughter--to say nothing of the dowry. After all, it is a cheek of you to aspire so high. As you told me from the first, you haven’t saved a penny. Even my commission you won’t be able to pay till you get the dowry. But if _I_ go I do not despair of getting a substantial sum--to say nothing of the daughter.” “Yes, I think you had better go,” said Leibel, eagerly. “But if I do this thing for you I shall want a pound more,” rejoined Sugarman. “A pound more!” echoed Leibel, in dismay. “Why?” “Because Rose Green’s hump is of gold,” replied Sugarman, oracularly. “Also, she is fair to see, and many men desire her.” “But you have always your five per cent, on the dowry.” “It will be less than Volcovitch’s,” explained Sugarman. “You see, Green has other and less beautiful daughters.” “Yes, but then it settles itself more easily. Say five shillings.” “Eliphaz Green is a hard man,” said the Shadchan instead. “Ten shillings is the most I will give!” “Twelve and sixpence is the least I will take. Eliphaz Green haggles so terribly.” They split the difference, and so eleven and threepence represented the predominance of Eliphaz Green’s stinginess over Volcovitch’s. The very next day Sugarman invaded the Green workroom. Rose bent over her seams, her heart fluttering. Leibel had duly apprised her of the roundabout manner in which she would have to be won, and she had acquiesced in the comedy. At the least it would save her the trouble of father-taming.