Dr. Lavendar was silent.

"I don't begrudge a cent I spent on her," Algy went on. "I had laid by $1140 to set up a place of my own here in Mercer. At least, it wasn't me; I'm not one to save much; it was Mary did it. But these last eight months have taken it all, 'cause I 'ain't done hardly any work; couldn't be away from her on the road, you know; so we had to live on that money. I could 'a' got a cheaper coffin; but I wouldn't. As for the doctor, I got the best in town. I don't believe in economizing on your wife. And I paid him. I paid him $204 yesterday morning, though it seems high, considering he didn't cure her. But I wasn't going to let Mary get buried owing the doctor. And I paid for the coffin.

'Spot cash,' I says to the man, 'make it spot cash, and name your figure.' He took off $17. Well, how much do you suppose I've got left now, Dr. Lavendar, out of $1140? Just $23, sir. I don't care; I don't begrudge Mary a cent. I thought the coffin looked handsome, didn't you?--_Oh, I wish somebody had 'a' moved those chairs when we were gone!_" he cried, his voice shrill and breaking.

Dr. Lavendar got up and pushed one of the chairs back against the wall and brought the other to Algy's side. The young man laid his hand on it and began to cry.

IV

"No, I suppose you don't care to hear about it, John. But I want to tell you; so I guess you'll listen to please me?"

John Gordon said nothing.

"It isn't a long story," Dr. Lavendar said, and told him briefly of the funeral. When he ended there was silence. Then, "John," Dr. Lavendar said.

"Yes, Edward."

"The man is in need."

"What's that to me?" the other burst out.

"Much," said Dr. Lavendar; "it gives you a chance."

"You mean a chance to give him some money?" said the other. "Good G.o.d!

To pay the scoundrel for what he did to us? Edward, you don't understand human nature."

"He spent his last cent making Mary comfortable, John. She told me so herself."

"I will never give that--creature one penny of my clean money."

Dr. Lavendar said nothing.

The older man bent forward, shivering, and stirred the fire. The coal broke into sputtering fragments and the flames roared up into the soot.

"Alex would never listen to giving him any money."

"Don't ask him to listen to it. Haven't you got your own check-book?"

"Let him rot. That's what Alex says."

"I don't believe it's what you say, John, because he was good to Mary;--and you were not."

Mr. Gordon groaned.

"Well, I won't give him anything; I'll lend it, possibly."

Dr. Lavendar frowned and got up.

Mr. Gordon put out a trembling, detaining hand.

"Edward, you don't understand.... How much do you want for him?"

"He had saved about $1200 to go into some business. It's all gone."

"Well, I won't give it to him," the other repeated, with feeble sharpness; "I'll lend it--to please you."

"I'm sorry you haven't a better motive."

John Gordon got up and went over to his library-table and fumbled about in one of the drawers for his check-book. "I'm a fool," he said, fretfully; "I don't know but what I'm worse. Lending money to-- But you say he was good to her? Poor Mary! Oh!" he ended, half to himself, "I don't know why Alex is so hard." Then he took his quill and began to scrawl his check. "I'd rather see him starve," he said.

"No, you wouldn't," Dr. Lavendar said, calmly.

"Well, there! Take it! Get a receipt."

"Johnny, think better of it."

"You needn't take it if you don't want to," the other said, sullenly.

Dr. Lavendar took it, and John Gordon called after him,

"You won't tell Alex?"

Dr. Lavendar shook his head and sighed. As he drove home he said to himself that a loan was better than nothing. "But, Danny, my boy," he added, "what a chance he had! Well, he'll take it yet--he'll take it yet. The trouble with me, Daniel, is, I'm in too much of a hurry to make folks good. I must reform."

Danny blinked a grave agreement, and Dr. Lavendar, dropping his shortcomings joyfully from his mind, began to sing to himself:

"Oh! what has caused this great commotion--motion--motion Our country through?"

When, however, a day or two later, Dr. Lavendar went up to Mercer to take the check to Algernon Keen, he found to his astonishment that it was not so easy to secure to his old friend even the smaller and meaner opportunity of lending, much less giving.

At first, Algernon looked at him open-mouthed. "_Him_--offering to lend money to--?" His astonishment robbed him of words. Then into his poor, shallow face came the first keen touch of shame. But instantly he was ashamed of his shame,--ashamed, like so many of us strange human creatures, of the stirring of G.o.d within him. He didn't want their dirty money, he said. They thought themselves so good, they couldn't stomach Mary. Well, then, they were too good for him to touch their money. His voice shook with angry grief. His bitterness was genuine, even though he used it to hide that first regenerative pang of shame.

No; Dr. Lavendar could take their money back to them. "I spent my last cent, just about, on Mary," he said; "and I didn't begrudge it, either."

"I'm sure you didn't begrudge it."

Algy's weak mouth shook and his eyes filled; he turned away and stared out of the window. "He better have offered to lend her some money than me," he said. "I bet he's glad she's dead."

(Dr. Lavendar thought of Alex.) "He wants to help you now for her sake," he said.

"I don't want his money," the younger man insisted, brokenly; "he let her die."

"I think that it would please her to have you take it."

"I don't want to be under obligations to those people," Algernon said, doggedly.

"If Mr. Gordon has your note, it's business."