Rabbi Seixas smiled a little at his fire. "But what will you do, David? They are already at our gates. From what I have heard not even General Washington, lying across the river with his troops, can stay the British now. General Howe will hold a tight rein over the city and we must learn to bow our shoulders to the yoke." David stiffened his small shoulders stubbornly as though he actually stood before the hated English officer. "The good people of Boston," he began, proudly, "were not afraid of the redcoats--" then stopped, for his older companion did not have to remind him of the fate of the Boston citizens shot down on the public common by the soldiers of King George. "Ah, little David," said the minister, sadly, reading his thoughts, "we will be just as powerless before our foe as our ancestors were before the Philistines." A merry twinkle sparkled in David's eyes; he was a bright little fellow and he had not studied Hebrew and Jewish history all the long winter with the Rev. Mr. Seixas without learning a few lessons very helpful in time of need. "Didn't David and his sling frighten the whole Philistine army away?" he asked, mischievously. The minister did not smile. "But the Lord was on David's side," he answered, gravely. "Today he seems to have deserted His People." Down the street came a man whose white hairs might have marked him as aged had not his bright eyes and resolute bearing spoken of undying youth. He paused a moment at the gate, bowing to the Rabbi with all the formal courtliness of his day. "Good _Shabbas_, Mr. Gomez," said the minister. "You are on your way to the synagogue?" "Yes. Perhaps it may be the last service we will have in _Shearith Israel_ before the cursed British guns blow our roof about our ears," answered the older man. "Alas, Mr. Seixas, when you were elected our Rabbi but a year ago, I predicted a long and fruitful term of service for you in our midst. But now--" a hopeless shrug completed the sentence. "Believe me, I shall not fail in my duty as long as I serve the congregation of _Shearith Israel_," answered the young Rabbi, rather stiffly. "I know--I know." The white head nodded gloomily. "You will do what you can as a priest, but this war must be won by men. I have lived almost seventy years, Mr. Seixas, and have always sought to be a good Jew and hold up the hands of those who served the Lord, as I know you strive to do. And in times of peace, a man of your learning and purity of heart is a worthy leader. But in these times that try men's souls, we need not priests, but men," he repeated and walked slowly away. "What did he mean, Mr. Seixas?" asked David as the old man disappeared down the street. His eager little ears had taken in every word of the conversation; but he had not dared to ask questions while his elders were conversing, and had remained silent as a well-bred lad of his day was taught to do. "Does he mean we shouldn't have rabbis and ministers when there's a war?"