"Well, now give me a chair, Mrs. Allen; don't keep me standing, it's bad policy; I may be a widower some of these days, can't you understand that!"
Mrs. Allen got up and placed a chair for her old friend, who dropped into it, deposited his crutches conveniently, and began to rub his hands before the fire.
"Well, now, to begin at the root of the matter, Thrasher. This thing wants money."
"I have some in the house and more out at interest. Tell me how to use it best."
"You're a prime old chap. A church full of such members would be enough to save the whole country, bad as it is. How much money in all, brother?"
I am afraid the word brother broke into a slight sarcasm on the doctor's lips, for he rather disliked these empty titles of endearment, and was apt to laugh at them a little in ordinary times. This one word had sprung from his heart in spontaneous warmth, but it was so strange to the lips that they threw it off irreverently.
Mr. Thrasher named a sum of money larger than any one could have believed at his command.
"It isn't mine," he said, noticing the look of surprise. "My son brought home all his profits and savings the last voyage, and told me to put them out at interest, and always consider them as mine if I wanted means. I shall use this money now—every cent, if needful for her safety or support."
"You think the girl innocent, then?" said the doctor.
"Innocent as I am," answered the good old man.