"But, my dear," said her cousin, lowering her voice, "they say he is a Jew."
"He is," said Eleanor.
"You know it?"
"Yes, he told me so himself."
"Told you himself! Why, I thought—! How did he come to tell you?"
"Why, I don't know. We were talking and I said something foolish about the Jews—about some one being 'as rich and stingy as a Jew,' and he smiled and said, 'Are all Jews rich—and stingy?' And I said, 'If they have a chance,' and he said, 'Not always. I am a Jew and I am not rich.' Well, I thought he was fooling, just teasing me—so I went on, and do you know he is not only a Jew, but Mr. Marvel says he is rich, only he does not claim his money because he is a Socialist. Mr. Marvel says he could go home to-morrow and his father would take him and lavish money on him; but he works—works all the time among the poor."
"Well, I must say I always liked him," said her cousin.
"But he isn't such good fun to tease as Mr. Marvel—he is too intense. Mr. Marvel does get so red and unhappy-looking when he is teased."
"Well, you have no right to tease him. He is a clergyman and should be treated with respect. You wouldn't dare to tease your rector in town—the great Dr.—What is his name?"
"Oh! wouldn't I? Dr. Bartholomew Capon. Why, he is one of the greatest beaux in town. He's always running around to see some girl—ogling them with his big blue eyes."