But Jonathan Sugarman's eye was on more tragic episodes. Gradually the plates emptied, for the guests openly followed up the more substantial elements of the repast by dessert, more devastating even than the rear manoeuvres. At last there was nothing but an aching china blank. The men looked round the table for something else to "_nash_," but everywhere was the same depressing desolation. Only in the centre of the table towered in awful intact majesty the great _Bar-mitzvah_ cake, like some mighty sphinx of stone surveying the ruins of empires, and the least reverent shrank before its austere gaze. But at last the Shalotten _Shammos_ shook off his awe and stretched out his hand leisurely towards the cake, as became the master of ceremonies. But when Sugarman the _Shadchan_ beheld his hand moving like a creeping flame forward, he sprang towards him, as the tigress springs when the hunter threatens her cub. And speaking no word he snatched the great cake from under the hand of the spoiler and tucked it under his arm, in the place where he carried Nehemiah, and sped therewith from the room. Then consternation fell upon the scene till Solomon Ansell, crawling on hands and knees in search of windfalls, discovered a basket of apples stored under the centre of the table, and the Shalotten _Shammos's_ son told his father thereof ere Solomon could do more than secure a few for his brother and sisters. And the Shalotten _Shammos_ laughed joyously, "Apples," and dived under the table, and his long form reached to the other side and beyond, and graybearded men echoed the joyous cry and scrambled on the ground like schoolboys.
"_Leolom tikkach_--always take," quoted the _Badchan_ gleefully.
When Sugarman returned, radiant, he found his absence had been fatal.
"Piece of fool! Two-eyed lump of flesh," said Mrs. Sugarman in a loud whisper. "Flying out of the room as if thou hadst the ague."
"Shall I sit still like thee while our home is eaten up around us?" Sugarman whispered back. "Couldst thou not look to the apples? Plaster image! Leaden fool! See, they have emptied the basket, too."
"Well, dost thou expect luck and blessing to crawl into it? Even five shillings' worth of _nash_ cannot last for ever. May ten ammunition wagons of black curses be discharged on thee!" replied Mrs. Sugarman, her one eye shooting fire.