Then there was loud tittering, and Schnapper-Elle, who was not far distant, noting that this was all at her expense, lifted her nose in scorn, and sailed away, like a proud galley, to some remote corner.  Then Birdie Ochs, a plump and somewhat awkward lady, remarked compassionately that Schnapper-Elle might be a little vain and small of mind, but that she was an honest, generous soul, and did much good to many folk in need.

“Particularly to Nose Star,” snapped Puppy Reiss.  And all who knew of this tender relation laughed all the louder.

“Don’t you know,” added Puppy spitefully, “that Nose Star now sleeps in Schnapper-Elle’s house!  But just look at Susy Floersheim down there, wearing the necklace which Daniel Flaesch pawned to her husband!  Flaesch’s wife is vexed about it—­that is plain.  And now she is talking to Mrs. Floersheim. How amiably they shake hands!—­and hate each other like Midian and Moab!  How sweetly they smile on each other!  Oh, you dear souls, don’t eat each other up out of pure love!  I’ll just steal up and listen to them!”

And so, like a sneaking wildcat, Puppy Reiss crept up and listened to the two women bewailing to each other how they had worked all the past week to clean up the house and scour the kitchen things, and complaining about all they had to do before Passover, so that not a crumb of leavened bread should stick to anything.  And such troubles as they had baking the unleavened bread!  Mrs. Flaesch had special cause for complaint—­for she had had no end of trouble over it in the public bakery, where, according to the ticket she drew, she could not bake till the afternoon of the very last day, just before Passover Eve; and then old Hannah had kneaded the dough badly, and the maids had rolled it too thin, and half of it was scorched in baking, and worst of all, rain came pouring through the bake-house roof; and so, wet and weary, they had had to work till late in the night.

“And, my dear Mrs. Floersheim,” said Mrs. Flaesch, with gracious friendliness most insincere, “you were a little to blame for that, because you did not send your people to help me in baking.”

“Ah! pardon,” replied the other.  “My servants were so busy—­the goods for the fair had to be packed—­my husband”—­

“Yes, I know,” interrupted Mrs. Flaesch, with cutting irony in her speech.  “I know that you have much to do—­many pledges and a good business, and necklaces”—­

And a bitter word was just about to slip from the lips of the speaker, and Dame Floersheim had turned as red as a lobster, when Puppy Reiss cried out loudly, “For God’s sake!—­the strange lady lies dying—­water! water!”