She interrupted him and her tone was rather sharp.
“Don't, Mr. Bangs,” she said. “Don't say any more. If you've got the idea that I'm hintin' for you to LEND me money—you or anybody else—you never was more mistaken in your life. Or ever will be.”
Galusha turned red. “I beg your pardon,” he faltered. “Of course I know you were not hinting, Miss Martha. I—I didn't dream of such a thing. It was merely a thought of my own. You see, it would be such a favor to me if you would permit me to—to—”
“Don't.”
“But, Miss Phipps, it would be doing me such a GREAT favor. Really, it would.”
He was so very much in earnest that, in spite of her own stress of mind, she could not help smiling.
“A great favor to help you get rid of your money?” she asked. “You havin' such a tremendous lot of it, I presume likely.”
“Yes—ah—yes, that's it, that's it.”
Her smile broadened. “And 'twas because you were so dreadfully rich that you came here to East Wellmouth to live, I suppose. Mr. Bangs, you're the kindest, best-hearted man that ever stepped, I do believe, but truly I doubt if you know whether you're worth ten dollars or ten hundred. And it doesn't make the least difference, so far as I am concerned. I'll never borrow money while I'm alive and I'll try to keep enough one side to bury me after I'm dead. So don't say any more about lendin'. That's settled.”
Galusha reluctantly realized that it was. He tried a new idea.