There he
turned up a reading lamp, its light softened by a green shade. and
motioning Jack to a seat, said abruptly, but politely--more as a
request than a demand:
"I have a question to ask you, and you will please tell me the
truth. How much money do you want, and what do you want it for?"
Jack bit his lip. He wanted money, and he wanted it badly, but the
tailor had no right to pry into his private affairs--certainly not
in this way.
"Well, that was something I was talking to Uncle Peter about," he
rejoined stiffly. "I suppose you must have overheard."
"Yes, I did. Go on--how much money do you want, and what do you
want it for?"
"But, Mr. Cohen, I don't think I ought to bother you with my
troubles. They wouldn't interest you."
"Now, my dear young man, you will please not misunderstand me. You
are very intelligent, and you are very honest, and you always say
what is in your heart; I have heard you do it many times. Now say
it to me."
There was no mistaking the tailor's earnestness. It evidently was
not mere curiosity which prompted him.
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