Free General Well'ngone In Love by Libi Astaire

good
friend Miss Harriet Franks, discuss with her father a machine that
could cut cloth, sew seams and hems, and even produce a tolerable
buttonhole, she had begged her father to procure the wonder at
once.
    “ Is such a machine in existence today?” Mr Lyon had
asked.
    “ Oh, I do not speak of today,” Mr Franks had replied. “I speak
of a future time, when the machine will perform many of the mundane
tasks that currently occupy our hours.”
    At the time,
Rebecca had been contented with this answer. Now, however, she
silently wondered if that future epoch might occur within the next
six or seven years, when she could expect to take her place among
the married matrons of London’s Jewish community. If so, she would
be spared much agony. In the meanwhile, though, she was aware that
both her sister and her mother were waiting for her reply.
    “ Yes, Hannah, I should like to improve. And I am sorry you no
longer live with us in Devonshire Square, as I am sure that now
that I am older I should make a much better pupil.”
    “ Bury Street is not so very far.”
    “ No, but you are so busy, since you have become a
mother.”
    “ I have not the time, it is true, but perhaps Miss Taylor
could perform the duties of a teacher.”
    Mrs Lyon, who
had been following the conversation with interest, said with
astonishment, “Why should a stranger teach Rebecca sewing, when she
has a mother to instruct her?”
    “ I did not mean to offend, Mama, but I think you will like my
little scheme when you hear it.”
    At that moment
the patriarch of the family, Mr Samuel Lyon, entered the drawing
room. In place of his usually genial manner, a more serious
expression was etched upon his face. “What is this, Hannah?
Motherhood should elevate a young lady, not turn her into a schemer
or gossip.”
    “ Yes, Papa, but before you judge me, please do me the favour
of first hearing what scheme I have planned.”
    Mr Lyon took
his accustomed seat by the hearth and motioned for his eldest child
to proceed.
    ” It has come to my attention that the situation of Mr Taylor
and his sister is not all that it should be,” Hannah began. “Their
rooms are above ours, on Bury Street, as you know,
Papa.”
    Mr Lyon,
having unintentionally fallen into the role of judge, nodded his
head in what he hoped was a suitably judicial manner.
    “ Knowing that they are but newly arrived in London, and
apparently without family or acquaintances,” Hannah continued, “I
have on more than one occasion invited Miss Taylor to my apartments
for tea. But she has refused my overtures.”
    “ This surprises me,” said Mr Lyon. “They accepted our
invitation to the Seder. Miss Taylor seemed to be a sensible,
well-bred young lady.”
    “ She praised my special recipe for gefilte fish exceedingly,”
added Mrs Lyon, by way of agreement with her husband.
    “ I believe she is a well-bred person, as well,” Hannah
replied, “and that it is only the embarrassment of a too limited
income that prevents her from accepting my invitations. If she were
to have tea with me, she would feel obligated to invite me in
return, and it is my belief that she and her brother do not have
enough food for themselves, let alone others.”
    “ I do not understand you, Hannah,” said Mrs Lyon. “Is not Mr
Taylor employed as physician to the Jewish orphanage? And how can
he engage rooms on Bury Street, if he does not possess a
comfortable income? The building is owned by Mr Melamed, who
maintains his own apartments in the house next door. It is
fantastic to suggest that Mr Melamed would let his property to
paupers.”
    Mr Lyon
cleared his throat loudly and rose from his seat.
    “ What are you doing, Mr Lyon?” asked his helpmeet, as she
watched him search behind the high-backed settle that stood in a
corner of the room. “Passover has finished. There is no longer a
need to search for chometz .”
    “ It is not unleavened bread that I am searching for,” he
replied, turning his