The talk turned to less delicate topics. But presently the caller, who gave increasing evidence of being a man who knew his own mind, turned on Grace with a question.
"Given up the idea of finishing your college course?"
"O, yes, Mr. Clement."
"Why?"
Grace hesitated. "If there were no other reason," she said at last, in a low voice, "the question of expense would settle it."
"That's what I fancied. Suppose you start in next fall, and send your bill to me."
"But, Mr. Clement--"
"It's good business sense, Grace. A thing half done is undone, and that's all you can say. Go ahead and get your education. Fit yourself for the work you like, and the work you want to do."
"But, Mr. Clement, I wouldn't think of accepting--"
"Stop right there, my dear. You're going to talk nonsense about being under obligations and that sort of thing. Your father and I were friends in our boyhood and it was the sort of friendship that stood by in a rough sea. More than once your father has come to my help when his name on my note was all that stood between me and bankruptcy." Santa Claus took out his handkerchief and blew his nose violently. "And after that if his daughter had a silly pride which wouldn't allow her to accept my help in making as much of herself as possible, I should be driven to conclude that she wasn't worthy the name she bears."