ew men whom it is safe to let walk around loose."

"And you like him?"

"Immensely."

"And you never remember he is a Jew?" This was one of the things Jack
had never understood.

"Never;--that's not his fault,--rather to his credit."

"Why?"

"Because the world is against both him and his race, and yet in all the
years I have known him, nothing has ever soured his temper."

Jack struck a match, relit his cigar and settling himself more
comfortably in his chair, said in a positive tone:

"Sour or sweet,--I don't like Jews,--never did."

"You don't like him because you don't know him. That's your fault, not
his. But you would like him, let me tell you, if you could hear him
talk. And now I think of it, I am determined you shall know him, and
right away. Not that he cares--Cohen's friends are among the best men in
London, especially the better grade of theatrical people, whose
clothes he has made and whose purses he has kept full--yes--and whom he
sometimes had to bury to keep them out of Potter's field; and those he
knows here--his kind of people, I mean, not yours."

"All in his line of business, Uncle Peter," Jack laughed. "How much
interest did they pay,--cent per cent?"

"I am ashamed of you, Jack. Not a penny. Don't let your mind get clogged
up, my boy, with such prejudices,--keep the slate of your judgment
sponged clean."

"But you believe everybody is clean, Uncle Peter."

"And so must you, until you prove them dirty. Now, will you do me a very
great kindness and yourself one as well? Please go downstairs, rap three
times at Mr. Cohen's shutters--hard, so that he can hear you--that's my
signal--present my compliments and ask him to be kind enough to come up
and have a cigar with us."

Jack leaned forward in his seat, his face showing his astonishment.

"You don't mean it?"

"I do."

"All right."

The boy was out of his chair and clattering down-stairs before Peter
could add another word to his message. If he had asked him to crawl out
on the roof and drop himself into the third-story window of the next
house, he would have obeyed him with the same alacrity.

Peter wheeled up another chair; added some small and large glasses to
the collection on the tray and awaited Jack's return. The experience
was not new. The stupid, illogical prejudice was not confined to
inexperienced lads.

He had had the same thing to contend with dozens of times before. Even
Holker had once said: "Peter, what the d