What a liquor!" In the first Anglo-Jewish circles with which Pesach had scraped acquaintance, ginger-beer was the prevalent drink; and, generalizing almost as hastily as if he were going to write a book on the country, he concluded that it was the national beverage.

He had long since discovered his mistake, but the drift of the discussion reminded Becky of a chance for an arrow.
"On the day when you sit for joy, Pesach," she said slily.

"I shall send you a valentine." Pesach colored up and those in the secret laughed; the reference was to another of Pesach's early ideas.

Some mischievous gossip had heard him arguing with another Greener outside a stationer's shop blazing with comic valentines.

The two foreigners were extremely puzzled to understand what these monstrosities portended; Pesach, however, laid it down that the microcephalous gentlemen with tremendous legs, and the ladies five-sixths head and one-sixth skirt, were representations of the English peasants who lived in the little villages up country.
"When I sit for joy," retorted Pesach, "it will not be the season for valentines." "Won't it though!" cried Becky, shaking her frizzly black curls.