"If I were to go to him," said Charlie, "and say to him, 'Dad, I made a hundred dollars to-day,' he would say, 'Show it to me,' and, if I did show it to him, he would then ask me if I had planned what I was going to do with it to make it earn more money. If I had told him I had, he would then say that either the investment I had planned was safe enough but didn't pay enough dividend—or else that it wasn't safe, although it paid a good dividend. I'd hate to have a disposition like Dad's," laughed Charlie, "and yet Dad's a good old scout, and he must believe in the plan, else he wouldn't back it the way he is doing."
Charlie, Fred and I were the optimists, I guess.
I had to thank old Barlow for doing me one good turn, for, during all the excitement I had completely forgotten to make my payment to the president of the bank, Mr. Blickens. It was the monthly payment of fifty dollars to apply against the mortgage on my farm. Jock had repeatedly told me to be sure not to get behind with that or I might lose my farm. The very morning after the payment was due I had a telephone call from Blickens, asking me to go to see him. I went, and he reminded me I hadn't made my payment. I said I would write out my check there and then, but he said, "I don't think it is at all satisfactory."
"You must take up the mortgage at once or I shall foreclose," he added in that acid tone of his.
"But, Mr. Blickens, you couldn't do that!"
"Couldn't?" he snapped. "You don't know what I could do." He pulled out his watch and said, "It's ten now—you must take up that note by twelve or I shall foreclose."
Old Barlow was in the bank as I came out of the president's office, and he evidently noticed I was feeling disturbed, for as I left the bank he followed me and put his arm around my shoulders in such a kindly way that I just told him the whole story.
He screwed his mouth a little, a habit he had when thinking quickly. Then "Come back to the bank," he said, shortly. He wrote out a check for cash, drew the money and gave it to me, saying, "Give that to him."
We entered Blickens' office together. He looked surprised to see old man Barlow, too. "What do you want?" he snarled.
"Nothing," smiled Barlow, "only I just wondered if you couldn't give young Black here a little longer on that note. He's all right. Would you give him a little longer if I endorsed his note?"