"And you are thinking of doing a little speculating?" asked Loibe-Bäres. "Are you not in need of any money?"
"Thanks be to God," replied Chayyim, proudly, "I have never yet been in need of money."
"Why did I say that?" he thought then, in terror at his own words. "How am I going to ask for a loan now?" and Chayyim wanted to back the cart a little, only Loibe-Bäres prevented him by saying:
"So I understand you make a good thing of it, you are quite a wealthy man."
"My wealth be to my enemies!" Chayyim wanted to draw back, but after a glance at Loibe-Bäres' shining face, at the blue jar with the jelly, he answered proudly:
"Thank Heaven, I have nothing to complain of!"
"There goes your charitable loan!" The thought came like a kick in the back of his head. "Why are you boasting like that? Tell him you want twenty-five rubles for Ulas—that he must save you, that you are in despair, that—"
But Chayyim fell deeper and deeper into a contented and happy way of talking, praised his business more and more, and conversed with the Gevir as with an equal.
But he soon began to feel he was one too many, that he should not have sat there so long, or have talked in that way. It would have been better to have talked about the fair, about a loan. Now it is too late:
"I have no need of money!" and Chayyim gave a despairing look at Loibe-Bäres' cheerful face, at the two little boys who sat opposite and watched him with sly, mischievous eyes, and who whispered knowingly to each other, and then smiled more knowingly still!