leaning across to pull his beard

  "Ah, I knew you were not," she said, catching the lurking twinkle in his eye. "You know I could never marry a man like that."   "Your mother could," said the Reb.   "Dear old goose," she said, leaning across to pull his beard. "You are not a bit like that--you know a thousand times more, you know you do."   The old Rabbi held up his hands in comic deprecation.   "Yes, you do," she persisted. "Only you let him talk so much; you let everybody talk and bamboozle you."   Reb Shemuel drew the hand that fondled his beard in his own, feeling the fresh warm skin with a puzzled look.   "The hands are the hands of Hannah," he said, "but the voice is the voice of Simcha."   Hannah laughed merrily.   "All right, dear, I won't scold you any more. I'm so glad it didn't really enter your great stupid, clever old head that I was likely to care for Pinchas."   "My dear daughter, Pinchas wished to take you to wife, and I felt pleased. It is a union with a son of the Torah, who has also the pen of a ready writer. He asked me to tell you and I did."   "But you would not like me to marry any one I did not like."   "God forbid! My little Hannah shall marry whomever she pleases."   A wave of emotion passed over the girl's face.