"I won't say lease this time," Johnny hastily assured him.

"Then that is good," gruffly assented Ersten with a trace of a
sarcastic snarl.

"Heinrich Schnitt," remarked Johnny.

That name was an open sesame. Louis Ersten stopped immediately with
his coat half-off.

"So-o-o!" he ejaculated, surprised into a German exclamation that he
had long since deliberately laid aside. "What is it about Heinrich?"

"I saw him at Coney Island last night. He doesn't look well."

"He don't work. It makes him sick!" Ersten's voice was as gruff as
ever; but Johnny, watching narrowly, saw that he was concerned,
nevertheless.

"His eyes are bad," went on Johnny, "but I think he would like to
come back to work."

"Did he say it?" asked Ersten with a haste which betrayed the
eagerness he did not want to show.

"Not exactly," admitted Johnny, "but if he knew that he could have a
workroom where there is a better light I know he would like to come.
His eyes are bad, you know."