XXIX ~ THE TOILERS OF OLD RAZEE
Hurrah! Hurrah! for Yankee wit.
Hurrah! Hurrah! for Cape Ann grit.
It's pluck and dash that's sure to win—“The Horton's in!
The Horton's in!”
—Old Locality.
Polly Candage, covering her emotions with that mask of demureness which nature lends to the weaker sex for their protection, received a tumultuous Mayo next morning in the parlor of the cottage.
“I don't know how it has happened. I don't understand it,” he exploded. “I didn't suppose anybody could blast money out of his pocket with dynamite—your father said it couldn't be done. But Deacon Rowley has loaned us five thousand dollars. Here's his check on the Limeport First National. Only charges six per cent. I'm so weak it was all I could do to walk up here.”
“What did he say to explain it?” inquired Polly, with maiden's curiosity in learning to what extent of prevarication a deacon would go in order to make three hundred dollars.
“Wouldn't say much of anything. Handed out this check, said my indorsement on it would be enough for a receipt, and said your father and I could sign a joint note later—sometime—when he got around to it. Have you heard any rumor that the old fellow is losing his mind? But this check looks good!”
“Well, I think he's been pondering on the matter since father was here. In fact, Deacon Rowley has said a few things to me,” said the girl, meeting Mayo's gaze frankly. “Not much, of course, but something that hinted he had a lot of confidence in both of you, seeing that you have used him nicely in the other business he has done with you. Sometimes, you know, these hard old Yankees take a liking to somebody and do things all of a sudden.”
“This is sudden, all right enough,” stated Mayo, scratching the serrated edge of the check across his palm as if to make sure it was real and not a shadow. “Yes, he told me not to mention the note to him till he said something to us about it himself, and to keep quiet about the loan. Didn't want others running to him with their schemes.”
“And if I were in your place,” advised the girl, “I wouldn't tell father where you got the money—not for a time. You know, he doesn't get along so very well with Deacon Rowley—old folks sometimes do quarrel so—and he might be worried, thinking the deacon had some scheme behind this. But you don't think that way, do you?”
“I have the money, and he hasn't asked me to sign any papers. There's no come-back there, far as I can see,” declared the young man.