Jack's tenacious memory brought the subject up again that evening at the table.
"Aunt Harry," he asked, abruptly, pausing in the act of helping himself to sugar, "do you like the Jews?"
"Why, no, child," she said, hesitatingly. "I can't say that I take any special interest in them, one way or another. To tell the truth, I've never known any personally."
"Would you like to know more about them?" he asked, with childish persistence. "'Cause Bethany's going to read to me about them when Cousin Frank sends the books over, and you can listen if you like."
"Anything that Bethany reads we shall be glad to hear," answered Miss Harriet. "At first sister and I thought we would not intrude on you in the evenings; but the library does look so inviting, and it is so dull for us to sit with just our knitting-work, since we have stopped reading by lamp-light, that we can not resist the temptation to go in whenever she begins to read aloud."
"O, you're home-folks," said Jack.
Bethany had excused herself before this conversation commenced, and was in the library, opening the mail Miss Caroline had forgotten to give her at noon. When the others joined her, she held up a little pamphlet she had just opened.
"Look, Jack! It is from Mr. Lessing, from Chattanooga. It is an article on 'What shall become of the Jew?' I suppose it is written by one of them, at least his name would indicate it—Leo N. Levi. It will be interesting to look at that question from their standpoint."
"Will I like it?" asked Jack.
"No, I think not," she answered, after a rapid glance through its pages. "We'll have some more of the 'Bonnie Brier-Bush' to-night, and save this until you are asleep."