She replaced the blotting-pad, and dried the check in mechanical fashion; but her face was white with anger. She folded the useless slip, and put it in her bag.
“Have you no gratitude?” cried the old horror from the bed. “Can’t you say, thank you?”
“Thank you, father,” she answered, coldly; “I am tired of your jests,” and, without another word, she swept from the room.
“Two!” chuckled the old man in his throat, “two!”
On arriving at the rectory, she found the man reading a paper in the hall, and the rector not yet returned. She guessed that her husband had gone on a heart-breaking expedition to raise money. She wished to ask the fellow the amount of the debt for 29 which the execution was granted, but could not bring herself to put the question. She went to her husband’s study, guessing that he would come there on his return, and, seating herself in his armchair, leaned her elbows on the account-books and burst into tears.
After all, how little John had gained by marrying her! She could do nothing for him; she was powerless even to help her own son, who was compelled to adopt miserable subterfuges and swallow his pride on every occasion. She opened her purse and took out the check, intending to destroy it in her rage, but she was stopped by the miserable thought that, after all, every penny was of vital importance just now. She could not afford the luxury of its destruction.
“My own father!” she cried bitterly, as she spread out the check before her. “Two dollars!”
Then, she noticed that the word “two” had nothing after it on the long line, and that the “2” below in the square for the numerals was straggling toward the left. It only needed a couple of noughts in her father’s hand to put everything right. Two ciphers! They would indeed be ciphers to him, for how could he feel the difference of a few thousands more or less in his immense banking-account? A bedridden old man had no use for money. Indeed, it was impossible that he could know how much he was worth. She had often seen him signing checks 30 by the dozen, groaning over every one. When they were gone, they were out of his mind; and all he troubled about was to ask for the total at the bank, and mumble with satisfaction over the fine, fat figures of the balance.
Her face lighted up with a sudden reckless thought.
If she added those two ciphers herself with an old, spluttering pen, and added the word “thousand” after the “two,” who would be the wiser?