"A suggestion," said Madison to himself, "for which I thank you, Mrs. Thornton—it sounds so much less crude coming from you than from me." But aloud he said courteously, "Take my pen, Mr. Thornton."
"Thank you," said Thornton, as Madison placed it in his hand.
Mrs. Thornton and her husband had their heads together now, and were whispering—Thornton with his eyes on Helena, who sat with lowered head, twirling Madison's check in her hands. Then Thornton drew the check-book toward him, scratched out the printed name of the bank that it bore, wrote in another, and went on filling out the check.
"Eeny-meeny-miny-mo," said Madison to himself. "The suspense is awful. How much does he raise the ante? Next to the miracle, this is the first real thrill I've had—I feel like an elevator starting down quick."
As Madison had done, Thornton tore out the check and handed it to Helena. Helena stared at it, lifted her eyes to Thornton, flushed—and looked down at the check again.
"Fifty thousand," she murmured breathlessly.
"Splendid!" cried Madison enthusiastically, rising from his chair and pushing the newly established record of contributions toward Thornton. "Splendid! There's sixty thousand of the five hundred already. Splendid!"
Young Holmes ran toward his parents.
"I want to give too, dad," he whispered. "I want to give too."
"Reckon so," said Holmes, getting up heavily. "Reckon so—an' I was a-goin' to. I ain't got much though," he added timorously, as his hand went into his pocket.