well, could not decide how much of his talk on this occasion was sincere, and how much mere acting.
When the train had started, John began to watch his prey so intently that Mr. Magnate took cover behind a wall of newspaper. Presently John's curiously precise treble gathered all eyes upon him. "Mr. Magnate," he said, "may I talk to you?" The newspaper was lowered, and its owner endeavoured to look neither awkward nor condescending.
"Certainly, boy, go ahead. What's your name?"
"Oh, my name's John. I'm a queer child, but that doesn't matter. It's you we're going to talk about."
We all laughed. Mr. Magnate shifted in his seat, but continued to look his part.
"Well," he said, "you certainly are a queer child." He glanced at his adult fellow travellers for confirmation. We duly smiled.
"Yes," replied John, "but you see from my point of view you are a queer man." Mr. Magnate hung for a moment between amusement and annoyance; but since we had all laughed, except John, he chose to be tickled and benevolent.
"Surely," he said, "there's nothing remarkable about me. I'm just a business man. Why do you think I'm queer?"
"Well," said John, " I'm thought queer because I have more brains than most children. Some say I have more brains than I ought to have. You're queer because you have more money than most people; and (some say) more than you ought to have."
Once more we laughed, rather anxiously.
John continued: "I haven't found out yet what to do with my brains, and I'm wondering if you have found out what to do with your money."
"My dear boy, you may not believe me, but the fact is I have no real choice. Needs of all sorts keep cropping up, and I have to fork out."
"I see," said John; "but then you can't fork out for all the possible needs. You must have some sort of big plan or aim to help you to choose."
"Well now, how shall I put it? I'm James Magnate, with a wife and family and a rather complicated business and a whole lot of obligations rising out of all that. All the money I control, or nearly all, goes in keeping all those balls rolling, so to speak."
"I see," said John again. "My station and its duties, as Hegel said, and no need to worry about the sense of it all."
Like a dog encountering an unfamiliar and rather formidable smell, Mr. Magnate sniffed this remark, bristled, and vaguely growled.
"Worry!" he snorted. "There's plenty of that; but it's practical day-to-day worry about how to get goods cheap enough to sell them at a profit instead of a loss. If I started worrying about 'the sense of it all' the business would soon go to pieces. No time for that. I find myself with a pretty big job that the country needs doing, and I just do it."
There was a pause, then John remarked, "How splendid it must be to have a pretty big job that needs doing, and to do it well! Do you do it well, sir? And does it really need doing? But of course you do, and it must; else the country wouldn't pay you for it."
Mr. Magnate looked anxiously at all his fellow travellers in turn, wondering whether his leg was being pulled. He was reassured, however, by John's innocent and respectful gaze. The boy's next remark was rather disconcerting. "It must be so snug to feel both safe and important."
"Well, I don't know about that," the great man replied. "But I give the public what it wants, and as cheaply as I can, and I get enough out of it to keep my family in reasonable comfort."
"Is that what you make money for, to keep your family in comfort?"
"That and other things. I get rid of my money in all sorts of ways. If you must know, quite a lot goes to the political party that I think can govern the country best. Some goes to hospitals and other charities in our great city. But most goes into the business itself to make it bigger and better."
"Wait a minute," said John. "You've raised a lot of interesting points. I mustn't lose any of them. First, about comfort. You live in that big half-timbered house on the hill, don't you?"
"Yes.