“Not much profit in money,” was answered.

Mr. Jones shrugged his shoulders, and arched his eye-brows.

“Time is money,” said he.

“But money isn’t the all-in-all of life.  There’s something else in the world besides dollars.”

“Oh yes; and the man that has the dollars can command as much of this ‘something else’ that you speak of as he pleases.”

“I’m not so sure of that,” replied Mr. Smith.  “I can tell you something that money will not procure.”

“Say on.”

“A contented mind.”

“I’ll take that risk at a very low percentage, so far as I am concerned,” answered Mr. Jones.

“But, as to this hour of my time that you ask?  What is the object?”

“You remember Lloyd who used to do business on the wharf?”

“Yes; what of him?  I thought he died in New Orleans a year ago.”

“So he did.”

“Not worth a dollar!”

“Not worth many dollars, I believe.  He was never a very shrewd man, so far as business was concerned, though honourable and kind-hearted.  He did not prosper after leaving our city.”

“Honourable and kind-hearted!” returned Mr. Jones, with a slight air of contempt.  “Such men are as plenty as blackberries.  I can point them out to you by the dozen in every square; but it does not pay to be on too intimate terms with them.”

“Why?”

“You are very apt to suffer through their amiable weaknesses.”

“Is this your experience?” inquired Mr. Smith.

“My experience is not very extensive in that line, I flatter myself,” said Mr. Jones; “but I know of some who have suffered.”

“I was speaking of Mr. Lloyd.”

“Yes—­what of him?”

“I learned this morning that his widow arrived in our city yesterday, and that she needs friendly aid and counsel.  It seems to me that those who knew and esteemed her husband ought not to regard her with indifference.  I propose to call upon her and inquire as to her needs and purposes, and I want you to accompany me.”

“Can’t do it,” answered Mr. Jones, very promptly.

“Why not?”

“It won’t pay,” returned Mr. Jones.

“I don’t expect it to pay in a business sense,” said Mr. Smith; “but, surely, humanity has some claim to consideration.”

“Humanity! humph.  Humanity don’t pay, Mr. Smith; that’s my experience.  I’ve helped two or three in my time, and what return do you suppose I received?”

“The pleasing consciousness of having done good to your neighbour.”

“Not a bit of it.  I lost my money for my pains, and made enemies into the bargain.  When I demanded my own, I received only insult—­that’s my experience, Mr. Smith, and the experience of ninety-nine in a hundred who listen to the so-called claims of humanity.  As I said before—­it doesn’t pay.”

“Then you will not go with me to see Mrs. Lloyd?”