—not if he'd ever so big an insurance on her." He stroked his mother's shoulder affectionately, and chuckled a little at his own humour.
"Your mother has been a widow a long while, perhaps," said Deronda, seizing his opportunity. "That has made your care for her the more needful."
"Ay, ay, it's a good many yore-zeit since I had to manage for her and myself," said Cohen, quickly. "I went early to it. It's that makes you a sharp knife."
"What does—what makes a sharp knife, father?" said Jacob, his cheek very much swollen with sweet-cake.
The father winked at his guest and said, "Having your nose put on the grindstone."
Jacob slipped from his chair with the piece of sweet-cake in his hand, and going close up to Mordecai, who had been totally silent hitherto, said, "What does that mean—putting my nose to the grindstone?"
"It means that you are to bear being hurt without making a noise," said Mordecai, turning his eyes benignantly on the small face close to his. Jacob put the corner of the cake into Mordecai's mouth as an invitation to bite, saying meanwhile, "I shan't though," and keeping his eyes on
