“Three—or four,” stammered Jerry, unable to deny the statement entirely.
“Three or four!” repeated James, mockingly. “Thirty or forty, more likely.”
“You—you are quite wrong, James,” said Jerry, in nervous alarm. “It’s—it’s all I have in the world.”
“Perhaps it is, and perhaps it isn’t. When I was here before, you pretended you didn’t have any money at all. What are you going to do with it?”
“I am keeping it to—to bury me,” answered Jerry.
“Then you’d better give it to me. You can’t bury yourself, you know. I’ll see you buried all right when the time comes.”
“I couldn’t do it, James. I must keep it as long as I live. When I die—”
“It comes to me, I suppose.”
“Ye—es.”