his sweating stock of candy was rather out of date. He did not suspect this, however, for he was an old man and as staid as old men generally are, with little experience in his business, to boot. He really imagined that the blazing heat had sent a paralytic stroke thro the financial world; he, together with the rest of the business-world, was suffering in consequence.
Nevertheless, in order to have his goods appear fresh and tempting, Solomon had to buy new stock of candy. But, alas, the sun which was now bursting out in its full summer glory, was even less considerate of this stock than of the former. And Solomon’s candies began to distort curiously again.
Then Sarah bought a piece of cheap green gauze which she put over the basket hopefully. But, altho it served well enough to keep off the flies, it could hardly do as much for the heat, and it did rather too much of that with the customers. For Solomon came to appreciate that if he concealed his ware there was left no reason why anyone should stop before his little basket. So, it was bad, very bad!
Almost alone among all his little cus omers to still patronize him occasionly was a certain calm featured, handsome boy of about thirteen or fourteen whom Solo mon and his wife had long privately named "The Prince." Unlike most of the children, he was of neat dress and seemed to be of a well-to-do family. His self-pos sessed, almost dignified manner had won Solomon's respect and amazement and there had sprung up between the two a sort of unexpressed mutual esteem. It was therefore with no little discomfort that Solomon observed him one day in the act of silently throwing away the mouldy chocolates he had bought.
Tentatively, Solomon bought a tiny supply of apples, which, in recognition of the presence of summer, he placed beside the candy. But his scanty supply offered no temptation to the passer-by. Under the relentless heat the good apples became bad, the poor worse, and the long and short of it was that, as they became too bad to be sold, Sarah cooked them, and their meals were largely apples for the next few days which Solomon considered luxurious in the midst of their want.
And Solomon watched the ruin of his stock with dumb agony. He looked about
him. The other peddlers seemed to be doing lively business. He was almost tempted to shout his ware as they were doing, but somehow, it had always been against his nature to advertise his business in this fashion. It was so coarse, so humiliating! But once, edged on by his great stress of misery, he ventured to try it. He did shout a little,, but his voice sounded so strange and dilettant, that he stopped, ashamed, glad that his performance had not been noticed! Afterward, he turned it over in his mind, feeling very foolish, and thought peevishly, "An old man the street to stand shouting with a long beard disgraceful!" and he determined not to enlist his vocal powers again.
But Solomon was reckoning without his master, In fact, things had come to such a pass that he could hardly make the rent. And Heaven knows that he and Sarah lived sparingly enough. Bread and tea was their breakfast, bread and tea again, their dinner, and they had no supper.
Solomon was handicapped in two ways. He would not, of course, work on Saturday, and he could not on Sunday. So there were two whole days lost to him. He used to make surreptitious sales in obscure nooks, on Sundays. But fines were latterly heavy and enterprising policemen in such matters plentiful. Saturday was the most thriving day in the week for business. But, of course, Saturday was the Sabbath. Even if Sarah had been so inclined, which she was not, she would not have dared —to—suggest—such a thing—to him. Sarah loved him, chid him, and was in awe of him.
Daily his cheeks grew longer, his eyes more lustrous, his forehead higher. THe groaned for her. She suffered torments on his account, At home, bending over her housework, or stooping to pick up some stray odd-and-end, the tears would suddenly course down her cheeks. But he never saw it. No. Nor did she ever hear him groan. But no two were ever more conscious of each others sufferings.
And Solomon saw his stock wilt away before his very eves, helplessly. Not even “The Prince,” most faithful of little patrons, came to him of late. What could he do? He could only groan in dismay.
Sarah had sometimes gone sightseeing on the Sabbath. The street was simply packed, she said. People trod on each