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Updated: May 7, 2025
"Very well; come along. I have work for you." That he should have been able to read Gitelson's trade in his face and figure scarcely surprised me. In my native place it seemed to be a matter of course that one could tell a tailor by his general appearance and walk. Besides, had I not divined the occupation of my fellow-passenger the moment I saw him on deck?
The image of that cloak-operator reading books and laying by money for a college education haunted me. Why could I not do the same? I pictured myself working and studying and saving money for the kind of education which Matilda had dinned into my ears I accepted Gitelson's offer. Cloak-making or the cloak business as a career never entered my dreams at that time.
The contractor and my fellow-passenger were absorbed in a conversation full of sartorial technicalities which were Greek to me, but which brought a gleam of joy into Gitelson's eye. My former companion seemed to have become oblivious of my existence. As we resumed our walk up Broadway the bejeweled man turned to me "And what was your occupation? You have no trade, have you?"
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