"I got it—all of it. There's the whole sixteen hundred there. Count it."
"But—but, oh, my God! I—I——"
"Sshh! Steady as she is, George. Count your money. Put it on the table here by the lamp."
He took the bills from Kent's shaking fingers, arranged them on the table and, at last, coaxed or drove the young man into beginning to count them. Of course it was Kendrick himself who really counted; his companion did little but pick up the bank notes and drop them again. Suddenly, in the midst of the performance, he stopped, put his hands to his face and burst into hysterical sobs.
Sears let him cry for a time, merely stepping across to make sure that the bedroom door was tightly closed, and then standing above him with his hands on the bowed shoulders. After a little the sobs ceased. A moment later and George raised his head.
"Oh!" he exclaimed. "What a—a kid I am!"
Sears, who had been thinking pretty nearly that very thing, patted the shoulder beneath his hand.
"All right, George," he said. "Bein' a kid is no crime. In fact, it has some advantages."
"But—but, you see—I—I have been through purgatory this week, I——"
"I know. But you're all through and out now."