“And if I have?” said Leibel, defiantly.

“You have cheated me!  And so has Eliphaz Green—­I always knew he was tricky!  You have both defrauded me!”

“I did not mean to,” said Leibel, mildly.

“You did mean to.  You had no business to take the matter out of my hands.  What right had you to propose to Rose Green?”

“I did not,” cried Leibel, excitedly.

“Then you asked her father!”

“No; I have not asked her father yet.”

“Then how do you know she will have you?”

“I—­I know,” stammered Leibel, feeling himself somehow a liar as well as a thief.  His brain was in a whirl; he could not remember how the thing had come about.  Certainly he had not proposed; nor could he say that she had.

“You know she will have you,” repeated Sugarman, reflectively.  “And does she know?”

“Yes.  In fact,” he blurted out, “we arranged it together.”

“Ah, you both know.  And does her father know?”

“Not yet.”

“Ah, then I must get his consent,” said Sugarman, decisively.

“I—­I thought of speaking to him myself.”

“Yourself!” echoed Sugarman, in horror.  “Are you unsound in the head?  Why, that would be worse than the mistake you have already made!”

“What mistake?” asked Leibel, firing up.

“The mistake of asking the maiden herself.  When you quarrel with her after your marriage she will always throw it in your teeth that you wished to marry her.  Moreover, if you tell a maiden you love her, her father will think you ought to marry her as she stands.  Still, what is done is done.”  And he sighed regretfully.

“And what more do I want?  I love her.”

“You piece of clay!” cried Sugarman, contemptuously.  “Love will not turn machines, much less buy them.  You must have a dowry.  Her father has a big stocking; he can well afford it.”

Leibel’s eyes lit up.  There was really no reason why he should not have bread and cheese with his kisses.

“Now, if you went to her father,” pursued the Shadchan, “the odds are that he would not even give you his daughter—­to say nothing of the dowry.  After all, it is a cheek of you to aspire so high.  As you told me from the first, you haven’t saved a penny.  Even my commission you won’t be able to pay till you get the dowry.  But if I go I do not despair of getting a substantial sum—­to say nothing of the daughter.”

“Yes, I think you had better go,” said Leibel, eagerly.

“But if I do this thing for you I shall want a pound more,” rejoined Sugarman.

“A pound more!” echoed Leibel, in dismay.  “Why?”

“Because Rose Green’s hump is of gold,” replied Sugarman, oracularly.  “Also, she is fair to see, and many men desire her.”

“But you have always your five per cent, on the dowry.”

“It will be less than Volcovitch’s,” explained Sugarman.  “You see, Green has other and less beautiful daughters.”