Sir,—We have received the sum of one thousand dollars, from a correspondent whose identity we are not at liberty to reveal, to place to your credit. If you prefer, you may regard this amount as an unsecured loan and repay it with current interest on opportunity. Otherwise it is unconditionally at your disposal, and we will have pleasure in honoring your drafts to that extent.
———— ————
Agent for the Bank of Montreal.”
“You are a lucky man,” said Harry. “What will you do with it?” And I answered with some hesitation:
“I don’t exactly know. Tell them to send it back, most likely. We can both take care of ourselves without depending on other people’s charity like remittance men. And what right has any unknown person to send money to me? My friends in England have apparently cast me off utterly, and in no case would I accept a favor from them. Still, I should like to discover who sent it.”
“It’s some one who knows your little—we’ll say peculiarities,” answered Harry dryly. “I sometimes wonder, Ralph, what makes you so confoundedly proud of yourself. Can’t you take it in the spirit it’s evidently meant, and be thankful? You are not overburdened with worldly riches at present, anyway.”
To this I made no answer. We needed money badly enough—that at least was certain; and after our frugal repast I marched up and down the line, thinking it over, and then, chiefly for Harry’s sake, I decided to accept the sum as a loan. It would materially help to lighten that other crushing load of debt; and though growing more and more puzzled, I felt, as Harry did, there was yet a great kindness behind it.