“Father,” he said, “I want to borrow a hundred dollars.” The premium was a little more than that, but he could supply the remainder.
“For what?” asked the senior Ross.
“There is something I may wish to do,” was the enigmatical reply. “I will repay it as rapidly as possible.”
“Commissions few and small?” laughed the senior Ross. “Well, a young man never finds out exactly what he’s worth, while working for a relative or a friend, so this experience ought to be valuable.”
Still undecided, but with the money in his pocket, Ross left his father’s office and went to his own. He wanted to pay that premium, but it seemed to him a very serious matter, ethically and actually. The woman faced a future of privation; he faced what seemed to him a crisis in his business career. He revolted at the thought of being false to his employer, but to let the woman suffer would be heartless.
“A letter for you, Ross,” said one of the clerks, as he entered the office. “Your wife left it.”
He opened it with nervous haste, and a notice of a premium due dropped out.
“You must find some way to help this woman, Owen,” his wife wrote. “I went to see her to-day, and the situation is pitiable. She has used up every cent she had and is in debt. Her husband is conscious at intervals, and he looks at you so wistfully, so anxiously, that it makes your heart bleed. Oh! if I could only tell him that the insurance is all right! It would give him peace for the little time that is left to him on this earth. Owen! resign, if necessary, but do what I ask!”
Ross crumpled the note in his hand and walked into Murray’s private office.
“Mr. Murray,” he said, “please accept my verbal resignation.”