46 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
" Sit down there, Yankele," he said hurriedly, in ghastly genial accents, and he indicated a chair at the farthest pos- sible point from the hostess. He placed Manasseh next to his Polish parasite, and seated himself as a buffer between his guests and his wife. He was burning with inward indig- nation at the futile rifling of his wardrobe, but he dared not say anything in the hearing of his spouse.
" It is a beautiful custom, this of the Sabbath guest, is it not, Mrs. Grobstock ? " remarked Manasseh as he took his seat. "I never neglect it — even when I go out to the Sabbath-meal as to-night."
The late Miss Bernberg was suddenly reminded of auld lang syne : her father (who according to a wag of the period had divided his time between the Law and the profits) hav- ing been a depositary of ancient tradition. Perhaps these obsolescent customs, unsuited to prosperous times, had lingered longer among the Spanish grandees. She seized an early opportunity, when the Sephardic Schnorrer was taking his coffee from Wilkinson, of putting the question to her husband, who fell in weakly with her illusions. He knew there was no danger of Manasseh's beggarly status leaking out ; no expressions of gratitude were likely to fall from that gentleman's lips. He even hinted that da Costa dressed so fustily to keep his poor friend in countenance. Neverthe- less, Mrs. Grobstock, while not without admiration for the Quixotism, was not without resentment for being dragged into it. She felt that such charity should begin and end at home.
" I see you did save me a slice of salmon," said Manasseh, manipulating his fish.
" What salmon was that?" asked the hostess, pricking up her ears.
" One I had from Mr. da Costa on Wednesday," said the host.
