“Very well, so long as I have your assurance,” said the mollified labor-leader, mumbling the conclusion of the sentence into his wine-glass.  “But you know how it is!  After I have worked the thing for years, I don’t want to see a drone come in and take the credit.”

“Yes, sic vos non vobis, as the Talmud says.  Do you know I haf proved that Virgil stole all his ideas from the Talmud?”

“First there was Black and then there was Cohen—­now Gideon, M.P., sees he can get some advertisement out of it in the press, he wants to preside at the meetings.  Members of Parliament are a bad lot!”

“Yes—­but dey shall not take de credit from you.  I will write and expose dem—­the world shall know what humbugs dey are, how de whole wealthy West-End stood idly by with her hands in de working-men’s pockets while you vere building up de great organization.  You know all de jargon-papers jump at vat I write, dey sign my name in vair large type—­Melchitsedek Pinchas—­under every ting, and I am so pleased with deir homage, I do not ask for payment, for dey are vair poor.  By dis time I am famous everywhere, my name has been in de evening papers, and ven I write about you to de Times, you vill become as famous as me.  And den you vill write about me—­ve vill put up for Vitechapel at de elections, ve vill both become membairs of Parliament, I and you, eh?”

“I’m afraid there’s not much chance of that,” sighed Simon Wolf.

“Vy not?  Dere are two seats.  Vy should you not haf de Oder?”

“Ain’t you forgetting about election expenses, Pinchas?”

“Nein!” repeated the poet emphatically.  “I forgets noding.  Ve vill start a fund.”

“We can’t start funds for ourselves.”

“Be not a fool-man; of course not.  You for me, I for you.”

“You won’t get much,” said Simon, laughing ruefully at the idea.

“Tink not?  Praps not.  But you vill for me.  Ven I am in Parliament, de load vill be easier for us both.  Besides I vill go to de Continent soon to give avay de rest of de copies of my book.  I expect to make dousands of pounds by it—­for dey know how to honor scholars and poets abroad.  Dere dey haf not stupid-head stockbrokers like Gideon, M.P., ministers like the Reverend Elkan Benjamin who keep four mistresses, and Rabbis like Reb Shemuel vid long white beards outside and emptiness vidin who sell deir daughters.”

“I don’t want to look so far ahead,” said Simon Wolf.  “At present, what we have to do is to carry this strike through.  Once we get our demands from the masters a powerful blow will have been struck for the emancipation of ten thousand working-men.  They will have more money and more leisure, a little less of hell and a little more of heaven.  The coming Passover would, indeed, be an appropriate festival even for the most heterodox among them if we could strike oft their chains in the interim.  But it seems impossible to get unity among them—­a large section appears to mistrust me, though I swear to you, Pinchas, I am actuated by nothing but an unselfish desire for their good.  May this morsel of sandwich choke me if I have ever been swayed by anything but sympathy with their wrongs.  And yet you saw that malicious pamphlet that was circulated against me in Yiddish—­silly, illiterate scribble.”