locked, and it was not generally known that I kept the money there at all.”
“You seem to make out a good case for yourself," said Bracebridge laughing, “but we will let the President decide the case. It is too hard for us. But I did not intend to talk about that.”
“What then, old fellow?”
“You told Smithers, for the benefit of the whole yard I take it, that you did not know whether you would be able to pay back the money. Now I thought——”
But he stopped awkwardly upon seeing the deep blushes suffuse Henning's brow. What had he said? Were these blushes of shame or vexation? What could possibly be the matter?
“I—I—thought—that—I thought——”he stammered, at a loss how to proceed.
“Go on, old man. I know that whatever you would say, you do not intend to wound me.”
“Thank you, Roy. That's perfectly true. But perhaps I should not have broached the subject at all.”
“Go on; go on.”
“Well, if you insist. I thought that you always had plenty of money. From what you say it seems that this is not the case. Now if—if you will allow me—if I might—if you would not be offended—if—oh! you understand me, Roy,” he blurted out at last. “I want to help you pay it back.”