"I hardly know as yet," replied the Jew, thoughtfully caressing his beard; "but if you want immediate work, I can put you in the way of obtaining employment."
"Literary work?"
"Unfortunately no--a clerkship in a--a--well, an office."
"Ugh! I hate the idea of being cribbed and confined in an office; it's such an artificial existence. However, beggars can't be choosers, so tell me all about it."
"My father wants a clerk," said Ezra deliberately, "and if I recommended you I think you could get the position."
"Humph! And what is your father's occupation?"
"Not a very aristocratic one,--a pawnbroker."
Keith stopped short, and looked at his companion in surprise.
"I can't imagine you being the son of a pawnbroker," he said in a puzzled tone.
"Why not?" asked Ezra serenely. "I must be the son of some one."