Sugarman’s entry was brusque and breathless. He was overwhelmed with joyous emotion. His blue bandana trailed agitatedly from his coat-tail. “At last!” he cried, addressing the little white-haired master tailor; “I have the very man for you.” “Yes?” grunted Eliphaz, unimpressed. The monosyllable was packed with emotion. It said, “Have you really the face to come to me again with an ideal man?” “He has all the qualities that you desire,” began the Shadchan, in a tone that repudiated the implications of the monosyllable. “He is young, strong, God-fearing--” “Has he any money?” grumpily interrupted Eliphaz. “He _will_ have money,” replied Sugarman, unhesitatingly, “when he marries.” “Ah!” The father’s voice relaxed, and his foot lay limp on the treadle. He worked one of his machines himself, and paid himself the wages so as to enjoy the profit. “How much will he have?” “I think he will have fifty pounds; and the least you can do is to let him have fifty pounds,” replied Sugarman, with the same happy ambiguity. Eliphaz shook his head on principle. “Yes, you will,” said Sugarman, “when you learn how fine a man he is.” The flush of confusion and trepidation already on Leibel’s countenance became a rosy glow of modesty, for he could not help overhearing what was being said, owing to the lull of the master tailor’s machine. “Tell me, then,” rejoined Eliphaz. “Tell me, first, if you will give fifty to a young, healthy, hard-working, God-fearing man, whose idea it is to start as a master tailor on his own account? And you know how profitable that is!” “To a man like that,” said Eliphaz, in a burst of enthusiasm, “I would give as much as twenty-seven pounds ten!” Sugarman groaned inwardly, but Leibel’s heart leaped with joy. To get four months’ wages at a stroke! With twenty-seven pounds ten he could certainly procure several machines, especially on the instalment system. Out of the corners of his eyes he shot a glance at Rose, who was beyond earshot. “Unless you can promise thirty it is waste of time mentioning his name,” said Sugarman. “Well, well--who is he?” Sugarman bent down, lowering his voice into the father’s ear. “What! Leibel!” cried Eliphaz, outraged. “Sh!” said Sugarman, “or he will overhear your delight, and ask more. He has his nose high enough, as it is.” “B--b--b--ut,” sputtered the bewildered parent, “I know Leibel myself. I see him every day. I don’t want a Shadchan to find me a man I know--a mere hand in my own workshop!” “Your talk has neither face nor figure,” answered Sugarman, sternly. “It is just the people one sees every day that one knows least. I warrant that if I had not put it into your head you would never have dreamt of Leibel as a son-in-law. Come now, confess.” Eliphaz grunted vaguely, and the Shadchan went on triumphantly: “I thought as much. And yet where could you find a better man to keep your daughter?” “He ought to be content with her alone,” grumbled her father.