“I suppose I shall look in and see them all,” said Esther, smiling.  “But tell me.  Is Mrs. Simons living here still?”

“No.”

“Where, then?  I should like to see her.  She was so very kind to little Sarah, you know.  Nearly all our fried fish came from her.”

“She is dead.  She died of cancer.  She suffered a great deal.”

“Oh!” Esther put her cup down and sat back with face grown white.

“I am afraid to ask about any one else,” she said at last.  “I suppose the Sons of the Covenant are getting on all right; they can’t be dead, at least not all of them.”

“They have split up,” said Debby gravely, “into two communities.  Mr. Belcovitch and the Shalotten Shammos quarrelled about the sale of the Mitzvahs at the Rejoicing of the Law two years ago.  As far as I could gather, the carrying of the smallest scroll of the Law was knocked down to the Shalotten Shammos, for eighteenpence, but Mr. Belcovitch, who had gone outside a moment, said he had bought up the privilege in advance to present to Daniel Hyams, who was a visitor, and whose old father had just died in Jerusalem.  There was nearly a free fight in the Shool.  So the Shalotten Shammos seceded with nineteen followers and their wives and set up a rival Chevrah round the corner.  The other twenty-five still come here.  The deserters tried to take Greenberg the Chazan with them, but Greenberg wanted a stipulation that they wouldn’t engage an extra Reader to do his work during the High Festivals; he even offered to do it cheaper if they would let him do all the work, but they wouldn’t consent.  As a compromise, they proposed to replace him only on the Day of Atonement, as his voice was not agreeable enough for that.  But Greenberg was obstinate.  Now I believe there is a movement for the Sons of the Covenant to connect their Chevrah with the Federation of minor synagogues, but Mr. Belcovitch says he won’t join the Federation unless the term ‘minor’ is omitted.  He is a great politician now.”

“Ah, I dare say he reads The Flag of Judah,” said Esther, laughing, though Debby recounted all this history quite seriously.  “Do you ever see that paper?”

“I never heard of it before,” said Debby simply.  “Why should I waste money on new papers when I can always forget the London journal sufficiently?” Perhaps Mr. Belcovitch buys it:  I have seen him with a Yiddish paper.  The ‘hands’ say that instead of breaking off suddenly in the middle of a speech, as of old, he sometimes stops pressing for five minutes together to denounce Gideon, the member for Whitechapel, and to say that Mr. Henry Goldsmith is the only possible saviour of Judaism in the House of Commons.”

“Ah, then he does read The flag of Judah!  His English must have improved.”

“I was glad to hear him say that,” added Debby, when she had finished struggling with the fit of coughing brought on by too much monologue, “because I thought it must be the husband of the lady who was so good to you.  I never forgot her name.”