"Who is your father?" asked Mr. Tompkins.
"Jacob is my father. I am his favorite son. My brothers sold me a slave into Egypt, and told my father I had been slain by wild beasts. Have you seen my father?"
"He is crazy. Humor him, say something to him," whispered the landlord.
"Your father is not yet ready to come into Egypt," said Mr. Tompkins.
"And my brother Benjamin—did you see him?" the lad asked.
"Yes."
"Is the famine sore in the land where my father dwells?"
"Yes."
"And does he suffer—is he old? Oh, yes, I remember; my father must be dead." He seated himself on a low stool by the fireside, and, bowing his head in his hands, seemed lost in thought.