XIII
WATTLES GOES
Mr. Sutherland was busily engaged with a law paper when his son entered his presence, but at sight of that son's face, he dropped the paper with an alacrity which Frederick was too much engaged with his own thoughts to notice.
"Father," he began without preamble or excuse, "I am in serious and immediate need of nine hundred and fifty dollars. I want it so much that I ask you to make me a check for that amount to-night, conscious though I am that you have every right to deny me this request, and that my debt to you already passes the bound of presumption on my part and indulgence on yours. I cannot tell you why I want it or for what. That belongs to my past life, the consequences of which I have not yet escaped, but I feel bound to state that you will not be the loser by this material proof of confidence in me, as I shall soon be in a position to repay all my debts, among which this will necessarily stand foremost."
The old gentleman looked startled and nervously fingered the paper he had let fall. "Why do you say you will soon be in a position to repay me? What do you mean by that?"
The flash, which had not yet subsided from the young man's face, ebbed slowly away as he encountered his father's eye.
"I mean to work," he murmured. "I mean to make a man of myself as soon as possible."
The look which Mr. Sutherland gave him was more inquiring than sympathetic.
"And you need this money for a start?" said he.
Frederick bowed; he seemed to be losing the faculty of speech. The clock over the mantel had told off five of the precious moments.