Friday the Rabbi Slept Late Read Online Free PDF Page A

she decided to put on the new girdle that was firmer than her old one and held her in better.
    By the time she was dressed, she felt her old self again. Just the sight of herself in the mirror, trim in her white uniform, made her spirits rise. Suppose it was the other thing? It need not necessarily be dreaded; she might even use it to advantage. But of course she’d have to be sure, and that meant a trip to the doctor, perhaps this Thursday on her day off.
    “Then why the hell don’t you get the rabbi to write the letter to the Ford Company?” demanded Al Becker. He was a short, stocky man with a powerful torso mounted on short, stumpy legs. Nose and chin both protruded combatively and there was a pugnacious twist to his lipless mouth, out of which jutted a thick, black cigar. When he removed it from the corner of his mouth, he held it between the curled first and second fingers of his right hand, so that it seemed like a glowing weapon in a clenched fist. His eyes were dull blue marbles.
    Ben Schwarz had come to him full of glad tidings. He thought his good friend would be happy to hear he wouldn’t have to stand the considerable expense of mounting a new motor in the car.
    But Becker had been far from pleased. True, it would cost Becker Motors nothing, but it did mean a lot of trouble, perhaps extensive correspondence to explain the matter to the company.
    “How does the rabbi get into things like this?” he wanted to know. “You’re a sensible feller, Ben. Now I ask you, is this the function of a rabbi of a temple?”
    “But you don’t understand, Al,” Schwarz said. “It wasn’t the question of repairs on the car at all. It was, of course, but –”
    “Well, was it or wasn’t it?”
    “Well, sure it was, but I mean I didn’t go to him about that. He happened to hear I was sore at Abe Reich so he suggested a Din Torah –”
    “A Din who?”
    “Din Torah,” said Schwarz carefully. “It’s when two parties to a conflict or an argument go to the rabbi and he hears the case and makes a judgment according to the Talmud. It’s a regular thing that rabbis do.”
    “First I heard of it.”
    “Well, I admit I didn’t know about it before myself. Anyway, I agreed, and Reich and I and Wasserman – as a kind of witness, I suppose – went to the rabbi, and he worked the whole thing out so that it was plain that neither Reich nor I had been negligent. And by God, if I wasn’t negligent and the driver of the car wasn’t negligent, then the fault was in the car and the company is supposed to make good.”
    “Well, goddammit, the company won’t make good unless I say so, and I can just see myself going to them for a job this big with that kind of cock-and-bull story.”
    Becker’s voice was never soft, and when he was angry he shouted.
    Schwarz seemed suddenly deflated. “But there was a teak in the seal,” he shouted back. “I told you about that.”
    “Sure, a couple of drops a week. That kind of leak wouldn’t burn out a motor.”
    “A couple of drops when she was standing still. But she must have been gushing when I drove. I put two quarts in on my way to New Hampshire. That’s no couple of drops. Now that I know from my own knowledge.”
    The door of Becker’s office opened and his junior partner, Melvin Bronstein, came in. Bronstein was a youngish man of forty, tall and slim with wavy black hair just beginning to gray at the temples; deep, dark eyes, an aquiline nose, and sensitive lips.
    “What’s going on?” he asked. “Is it a private argument, or can anyone join? I’ll bet they could hear you guys down the block.”
    “What’s going on is that in our temple we’ve got ourselves a rabbi who can be depended on to do everything except what he’s supposed to do,” said Becker.
    Bronstein looked at Schwarz for enlightenment. Happy to have a somewhat less overpowering audience, Schwarz told his story while Becker rustled papers on his desk in elaborate unconcern.
    Bronstein beckoned from