McPherson.
- Mr. North?
- Yes, ma'am.
As I told you on the telephone,
I wish you to read to my father.
Yes, ma'am.
My father is 71 years old.
He needs the solace
of hearing the good book.
He is a very sick man,
Mr. North.
I see.
Your advertisement
said you charge $2.00 an hour.
That's correct.
How long would it take?
- King James Version?
- Of course.
Let's see.
It's about 1,200 pages.
I'd say 80 hours.
- That would be $160.
- Yes, ma'am.
It's an exorbitant price,
Mr. North.
Perhaps you could find
a more reasonable figure.
Let's see. I could read
the Old Testament in Hebrew.
Think of it. Your father
would be hearing God's words
as he dictated them
to Moses and the prophets.
My father doesn't
understand a word of Hebrew.
The point is
there are no vowels in Hebrew.
It would reduce my reading time
by as much as seven hours.
Mr. North...
Not good enough?
Let me add another incentive.
With your agreement, I'll throw
in the New Testament in Greek.
Throw in?
Yes, it would reduce
my price by another $20.
Mr. North, you're being absurd.
Not at all, madame.
You gave me to understand...
that your interest was in speed,
not intelligibility.
In which case, I'll tell you
what else I can do.
I'll read
the Sermon on the Mount...
in 4 minutes and 51 seconds.
If I go one second
over that mark...
I will knock another $5.00 off
this already rock-bottom price.
This is blasphemy, Mr. North.
I think you'd better
leave this house at once.
Shall we say an even $130?
No questions asked.
Mr. North, you'd better go!
Kindly leave this house
at once, Mr. North!
Sarah, send that young man
in here now.
Yes, Father.
Good morning.
Come in. Come in.
I'm James McHenry Bosworth.
Theophilus North, sir.
Sarah wants to save my soul.
She thinks I'm an infidel
because I won't go to church...
and listen to
some nincompoop flannel on...
about what's sinful
and what isn't.
The fact is, she's waiting...
hoping I'll kick the bucket
so that she can inherit.
But reading the Bible to me
at cut rates...
tells the whole story.
All this is strictly
confidential, of course.
- Of course.
- Please.
You don't look like a man...
who's read the Bible
in the original Hebrew.
I haven't.
- You lied.
- Admittedly.
But I can read you
Plotinus in Latin...
Descartes in French,
Schopenhauer in German.
- But no Hebrew.
- No.
- Greek?
- No.
Just as well. I wouldn't
understand you anyway.
Who are you, Theophilus North?
What do you mean, sir?
Where do you come from?
I grew up in the Midwest, sir.
My father owns a newspaper
in Madison, Wisconsin.
- A Yale man?
- Yes.
I'm Harvard,
class of '76, myself.
Go on.
After college, I spent four
and a half uneventful years...
teaching at a boys' school.
The sameness of it all,
the safety...
began to feel like a prison,
so I left.
Now you want to experience life.
I want to be a free man.
But why Newport?
Why not Paris? Tibet?
Kismet, sir.
The hand of fate.
What are your plans?
To find employment, sir,
if I can.
No, I mean for the future.
I have a number
of ambitions, sir.
What are they,
besides being a free man?
I thought I'd like
to be a detective.
Oh?
And an actor.
And a rascal.
In the sense of
the Spanish word "picaro," sir.
A man who lives by his wits.
Light of foot, purse,
and baggage.
- An adventurer.
- Exactly.
I notice you haven't mentioned
doctor, lawyer, or banker.
No, sir.
Though once I did resolve
to be a saint.
- Indeed?
- It was when I was 12.
I saw myself as a missionary
among the heathens.
The idea was
to live an exemplary life...
perhaps even rise
to the crown of martyrdom.
We're all shaped by
the promises of our imagination.
You're not the first...
whose future was foretold
in childish dreams.
Such matters aside,
do I have a job, Mr. Bosworth?
- You want it?
- Yes.
Two hours a day,
three days a week.
Shake on it?
What was that?
It's nothing, sir.
What?
Well, sir, it's