"I'm afraid I cannot," she answered. "But I am still sure your money will do good if it is properly applied."
"Ah, that's it. If it's properly applied. I'm an old man now. How am I to apply it? There's only one way that I can see, and that is what I am going to do with it. I'm going to give it away. What do you think of that?"
"If you give it away where it will do good I think it is a very excellent idea," she answered.
"You know that youngster at the bank, don't you? Young Harding, I mean."
"Yes," she replied.
"Do you think he is a man to be trusted?"
"I know he is, Mr. Dudgeon."
"I'll take your word for it," he said as he stood up. "I'll get along and see him. You can let him know if you want anything and he'll send on word to me. I'll look in again next time I'm passing. Good-bye."
He held out his hand, hard, knotted, and roughened with toil, and she placed hers in it. His fingers closed on hers, and he stood looking into her eyes till she grew uncomfortable under the scrutiny.
"I'd give everything I've got in the world," he said hoarsely, "for a daughter like you."