“You look half starved as it is. Come, are you willing to make your will in my favor?”
“I—I’ll think of it, James.”
“And give it to me to keep.”
“It—it won’t do you any good, I—I am so poor.”
“I’ll take the chance of that. You’ve got more money in your pocket than would bury you five times over.”
“No—no,” protested the old man in alarm. “You—you frighten me, James. I don’t feel well. Won’t you go away?”
“There is no need to be scared, dad. I don’t want your money.”
“Is that true, James?” said the old man, in a tone of relief. “I have so little it wouldn’t do you any good.”
“Didn’t that boy tell you I wanted to make you a present?”
“Yes, he said so.”