hat you don't lay more stress on religion down here? Don't
the boys and girls need it?"

"Need it? Who doesn't?" A shadow crossed his face. His vivacity gave way
for a moment before deep thoughtfulness. "But they get all they need,
these kids. They are mostly all of them members of strictly orthodox
Jewish families. Religion is given them at all hours in their own homes.
Many of them get more of it than they can ever need. They get so much of
it that they flee from it, just anxious for the freedom of the streets
and the novelty of the bar room and the brothel and the gambling den. I
have made investigations. I know that half of the East Side boys who
land in the police court have been driven there by the religious
strictness of their parents."

"Mr. Richards," I began ... but stopped in dismay. What I had been about
to say was no more nor less than a hot, strong denial of his opinion. I
felt sure he was wrong--and yet it seemed humorous to me that I, who a
year ago, had hated all things Jewish, was now defending all the worth
and venerability of its ritual.

"I do not agree with you altogether," I said lamely. "But ... but still,
don't think I am a very enthusiastic Jew. Because I'm not."

"Aren't you? Why not?"

I did not answer--had no answer to make, in fact. I did not want to tell
him of my aunt, of her influence, of my own cowardice. But, looking at
me, I think he did guess something of the longing I had had ...
something of that strange night when I had stood outside the synagogue
and heard the music coming from within the depths of its golden haze.
For he put his hand on my shoulder and bade me think for a moment why I
was not a Jew in spirit as well as in name.

"You're not a snob," he said, trying to help me. "You're not thinking
that, because your religion is in the minority in the midst of a
Christian land, it is necessarily an ignominy to be a Jew--and to act as
one."

My silence held. I let him go on talking. "Anyhow, you need religion.
Every man does to a variable extent. I should feel sorry for the man who
didn't. And do you mind my telling you--" he paused only for a
second--"that you are one of those who need it most?"

I hung my head. He had hit so truly upon what was right, what was most
secret in me.... I could not ask him how he had guessed it, I remembered
his assertion that he knew men--all men--and saw now that he had not
been boasting.

He went on, presently, to explain that religion