The act melted Bob. He took it. “Good friends, once more!” chirped Dan, and extended an arm to include Clarence. “You’ve won. The money’s fairly yours, Bob. Only as a personal favor, I ask you to be, at once, as you were. Be your old natural self immediately.”
“I’ll pay my share to have him that way again,” said Clarence heartily. “I want to spare the world too. Besides, he’s won all right enough.”
“It’s three weeks or nothing from me,” said Dickie. “You chaps may want to spare the world, but I don’t want to spare him.”
“I’ll pay for Dickie,” replied good old Dan. “And gladly!”
Dickie shrugged. Dan wrote out a check. “Congratulations!” he said. “And for us, too!” Turning to Clarence. “Think of the thousands in alimony it might have cost us!”
“We’ve simply got to call a halt on old Bob,” said Clarence fervently. “Bet’s off! We lose.”
Bob took the check. “I believe I am entitled to it, for I certainly would have stuck it out now. I am sure I wouldn’t do it all over again, though, for ten times the amount. Nevertheless, I thank you.” He shook himself. “Free! Isn’t it great? Will you do something for me?” To the monocle-man.
“Gladly,” was the reply. “I was secretly informed of that wager of yours and I was immensely interested in your little social experiment. You see I make my living by prevarication and subterfuges. And that”—with a laugh—“is more than a man can make by telling the truth. It’s a wicked world. Fraud and humbug are trumps.”
“What I want you to do,” said Bob, ignoring this homily, “is to express my grip to New York. Also, tell Miss Gerald that I’ve gone and kindly thank Mrs Ralston and Miss Gerald for asking me down.”
“Why don’t you thank them yourself?”