In an instant the bank president was again on his knees beside her chair.
“Don't, Auntie Sue: don't, dear! Why, you know I would do anything in the world you asked, even if I wanted to send the fellow up; but I don't. I wouldn't touch him for the world. It is a thousand times better to let him go if he is proving himself an honest man. Please, dear, don't feel so. Why, I will be glad to let him off. I'll help him, Auntie Sue. I—I—am as glad as you are that we didn't get him. Please don't feel so about it. There, there,—it is all right, now.”
So he comforted and reassured her until she was able to smile through her tears. “I knew I could depend on you, Homer.”
A few minutes later, she said: “And what about that man who is coming to claim the reward, Homer?”
“Never you mind him!” cried the banker; “I'll fix that. But, tell me, Auntie Sue, where is young Kent now?”
“He is working in the neighborhood,” she returned.
He looked at her shrewdly. “You have seen a lot of him, have you?”
“I have seen him occasionally,” she answered. Homer T. Ward nodded his head, as if well pleased with himself. “You don't need to tell me any more. I understand, now, exactly. It is very clear what has reformed Brian Kent; you have been up to your old tricks. It is a wonder you haven't taken him into your house to live with you,—to save him from associating with bad people.”
He laughed, and when Auntie Sue only smiled, as though humoring him in his little joke, he added: “By the way, has Betty Jo seen this latest patient of yours? What does she think of his chances for complete recovery?”
“Yes,” Auntie Sue returned, calmly; “Betty Jo has seen him. But, really, Homer, I have never asked her what she thought of him.”