“Well, what do you say, Mr. Bangs?” inquired Captain Jethro.
Bangs turned a haggard gaze in the speaker's direction. The latter was standing in exactly the same attitude, feet apart, hand to beard, sad eyes gazing out to sea; just as he had stood when Galusha's sympathy had gone out to him as a “helpless, dreaming child.”
“What are you laughin' at?” asked Captain Jeth, switching his gaze from old ocean to the face of the little archaeologist.
Galusha had not laughed, but there was a smile, a wan sort of smile, upon his face.
“Oh, nothing in particular,” he replied. “I was reflecting that it seemed rather too bad to waste pity in quarters where it was not—ah—needed, when there was such a pressing demand, as one might say, at home.”
CHAPTER XIII
The earnest young man behind the counter in the office of Cabot, Bancroft and Cabot—the young man who had so definitely classified Galusha Bangs as a “nut”—was extremely surprised when that individual reappeared before his window and, producing the very check which he had obtained there so short a time before, politely requested to exchange it for eighty-two hundred dollars in cash and another check for the balance.
“Why—why—but—!” exclaimed the young man.
“Thank you. Yes, if—ah—if you will be so good,” said Galusha.