gentile lady, lest his purity be smirched, I beg your pardon, Phryne.'
'Not at all—a compliment, to have such an effect.'
'Poor Yossi,' sighed Julia. 'His mother had such hopes for him. He's a good shoemaker, a craftsman. Then he started reading all the ancient writings, the old Rabbis and now—' She sighed again.
Mr Abrahams objected mildly. 'He is still a good shoemaker and he is working well, even though he stays up all night, Lily Grossman says, making experiments and stenches and burning her table. Did I tell you that young Saul is almost bar mitzvah? We will need to arrange the reception.'
'He is a good boy, Saul,' said Julia, brightening. 'The reception will be in the house in Faraday Street?'
'\es, if it can be managed,' said Mr Abrahams, smiling at his wife.
'Of course it can be managed,' she said sharply. Phryne saw a ghost of the same expression of slightly irritated efficiency which she had seen on Mrs Grossman's face as she chivvied her children to prepare for the visitors. 'I will talk to Lily about it, Ben. You want a good spread?'
'Yes. Everything as Yossel would have wanted. His father was a good friend, a real
mensch
,' he explained to Phryne. 'And the boy is a good boy.'
'Yossel would be proud,' agreed Julia. 'I will arrange it.'
'About Rabbi Elijah.' Phryne inserted a word into the conversation.
'Rabbi Elijah? Difficult,' said Julia, unconscious of the irony.
'How do I get to see him?'
'You go to his house—Simon will take you—but make sure that he doesn't see Simon. To him we are as bad as the unobservant, almost as bad as the
meshumad.'
'Meshumad?'
'The Apostates. Those who embraced the Christian religion without threat of torture,' explained Simon. 'We are not Orthodox enough for the Hasidim, the Holy Ones. Perhaps he might prefer an honest
shiksa.'
'Simon!' reproved his father, but Phryne smiled.
'Perhaps he might at that,' she agreed, patting Simon's hand.
His mother smiled.
Seven
Without counsel purposes are disappointed: But in the multitude of counsellors they are established.
The Holy Bible, Proverbs 15:22
I really can't remember anything about it,' protested Miss Lee. 'I already got the novels wrong, that was Wednesday.'
'Yes you can, Miss, you just have to close your eyes and put yourself back there and it's all in your head, just like a moving picture, that's what Miss Phryne says,' Dot instructed. 'Now, you're opening the shop and hanging up your coat and putting on your smock. Go on from there.'
'I unlocked the cash tin and just as I was taking out my stock book a young man came in and asked if I carried newspapers, and I told him I didn't.'
'What did he look like?'
'An ordinary young man,' said Miss Lee. 'Oh, dear, I can't do this. He had a serge suit and an umbrella—I would have said that he was a clerk. In any case he was only in the shop for less than a minute. I broke my pencil, then, and I was sharpening it when the bell tinkled and ...'
'Yes?' prompted Dot. Miss Lee's brow creased with effort. 'You're doing very well, you know.'
'The bell rang, I looked up from my pencil, and there was a delivery man with a big box. It was my auction books from Ballarat ... yes. I asked him to put it in the corner and I checked the invoice—there was something wrong with the invoice—what was it? Ah, yes, it had a blot over the list of contents, I couldn't read it. You have to be careful with dispatch notes, they fudge the orders sometimes, and if I was to sign it without checking what was in the box I couldn't complain if the one valuable book was missing and all the dross was there. Dross always is, somehow. I've never lost a set of Victorian sermons in my life ... I made the man wait until I checked the volumes, then I signed it and he went away. After that there was Mrs Johnson looking in for her cookery book, which I sold her, then this absurd woman and her atlas. Then the two young men and then Mr Michaels. Poor boy.'
'Tell me about the carter,' said Dot. Miss
'Not at all—a compliment, to have such an effect.'
'Poor Yossi,' sighed Julia. 'His mother had such hopes for him. He's a good shoemaker, a craftsman. Then he started reading all the ancient writings, the old Rabbis and now—' She sighed again.
Mr Abrahams objected mildly. 'He is still a good shoemaker and he is working well, even though he stays up all night, Lily Grossman says, making experiments and stenches and burning her table. Did I tell you that young Saul is almost bar mitzvah? We will need to arrange the reception.'
'He is a good boy, Saul,' said Julia, brightening. 'The reception will be in the house in Faraday Street?'
'\es, if it can be managed,' said Mr Abrahams, smiling at his wife.
'Of course it can be managed,' she said sharply. Phryne saw a ghost of the same expression of slightly irritated efficiency which she had seen on Mrs Grossman's face as she chivvied her children to prepare for the visitors. 'I will talk to Lily about it, Ben. You want a good spread?'
'Yes. Everything as Yossel would have wanted. His father was a good friend, a real
mensch
,' he explained to Phryne. 'And the boy is a good boy.'
'Yossel would be proud,' agreed Julia. 'I will arrange it.'
'About Rabbi Elijah.' Phryne inserted a word into the conversation.
'Rabbi Elijah? Difficult,' said Julia, unconscious of the irony.
'How do I get to see him?'
'You go to his house—Simon will take you—but make sure that he doesn't see Simon. To him we are as bad as the unobservant, almost as bad as the
meshumad.'
'Meshumad?'
'The Apostates. Those who embraced the Christian religion without threat of torture,' explained Simon. 'We are not Orthodox enough for the Hasidim, the Holy Ones. Perhaps he might prefer an honest
shiksa.'
'Simon!' reproved his father, but Phryne smiled.
'Perhaps he might at that,' she agreed, patting Simon's hand.
His mother smiled.
Seven
Without counsel purposes are disappointed: But in the multitude of counsellors they are established.
The Holy Bible, Proverbs 15:22
I really can't remember anything about it,' protested Miss Lee. 'I already got the novels wrong, that was Wednesday.'
'Yes you can, Miss, you just have to close your eyes and put yourself back there and it's all in your head, just like a moving picture, that's what Miss Phryne says,' Dot instructed. 'Now, you're opening the shop and hanging up your coat and putting on your smock. Go on from there.'
'I unlocked the cash tin and just as I was taking out my stock book a young man came in and asked if I carried newspapers, and I told him I didn't.'
'What did he look like?'
'An ordinary young man,' said Miss Lee. 'Oh, dear, I can't do this. He had a serge suit and an umbrella—I would have said that he was a clerk. In any case he was only in the shop for less than a minute. I broke my pencil, then, and I was sharpening it when the bell tinkled and ...'
'Yes?' prompted Dot. Miss Lee's brow creased with effort. 'You're doing very well, you know.'
'The bell rang, I looked up from my pencil, and there was a delivery man with a big box. It was my auction books from Ballarat ... yes. I asked him to put it in the corner and I checked the invoice—there was something wrong with the invoice—what was it? Ah, yes, it had a blot over the list of contents, I couldn't read it. You have to be careful with dispatch notes, they fudge the orders sometimes, and if I was to sign it without checking what was in the box I couldn't complain if the one valuable book was missing and all the dross was there. Dross always is, somehow. I've never lost a set of Victorian sermons in my life ... I made the man wait until I checked the volumes, then I signed it and he went away. After that there was Mrs Johnson looking in for her cookery book, which I sold her, then this absurd woman and her atlas. Then the two young men and then Mr Michaels. Poor boy.'
'Tell me about the carter,' said Dot. Miss
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