Mrs. Chaikin made new
attempts at worming out the size of my fortune and, in addition,
something concerning its origin
"Is it an inheritance?" she queried.
"An inheritance? Why, would you like me to get one?" I said,
playfully, as though talking to a child
She could not help laughing. "Well, then, is it from a rich brother
or a sister, or is it your own money?" she pursued, falling in with
the facetious tone that I was affecting
"Any kind of money you wish, Mrs. Chaikin. But, seriously, there
will be no trouble about cash. The main point is that I want to go
into manufacturing and that I should prefer to have Mr. Chaikin
for my partner. There is plenty of money in cloaks, and I am bent
upon making heaps, great heaps, of it--for Mr. Chaikin and
myself. Really, isn't it maddening to think that he should be
making other people rich, while all he gets is a miserable few
dollars a week? It's simply outrageous."
So speaking, I worked Mrs. Chaikin up to a high sense of the
absurdity of the thing. I was rapidly gaining ground with her
And so, pending that mysterious something to which I was often
alluding as the source of my prospective fortune, I became a
frequent visitor at her house.
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