The banker shook his head. “Well, I suppose I do, too, in a way,” he said. “It is because he is Galusha Bangs. Nobody else on earth would think of doing such a thing.”
“No, nobody else would. But thirteen thousand dollars, Mr. Cabot! Why, that's dreadful! It's awful! He must have used every cent he owns, and I didn't suppose he owned any, scarcely. Oh, Mr. Cabot, I must pay him back; I must pay him right away. DO you want to buy that stock he bought? Will you buy it of him, so he can have his money again?”
She was looking at him now and her voice was shaking with anxiety. Cabot laughed once more.
“Delighted, Miss Phipps,” he assured her. “That is what I have been trying to do for a month or more. But don't worry about old Galusha's going broke. He—why, what is it?”
“Oh, nothin'. I was thinkin' about what he did and—and—”
“Yes, I know. Isn't it amazing? I have known him all my life, but I'm never sure how he will fly off the handle next. Of course, I realize you must think him a perfect jackass, an idiot—”
“What! Think him WHAT?”
“An idiot, an imbecile. Nine people out of ten, those who don't know him well, do consider him just that. Yet he isn't. In some respects he is a mighty clever man. In his own line, in this musty-dusty museum business of his, this Egyptology he is so cracked about, he is really very close to the top. Geographic societies all over the world have given him medals; he is—why, if he wished to he could write a string of letters after his name a yard long. I believe—hang it, it sounds absurd, but I believe he has been—er—knighted or something like it, in one heathenish little kingdom. And in Washington there, at the Institute, they swear by him.”
She nodded. “They have just made him a wonderful offer to be the head of another expedition,” she said.
“So? Well, I am not surprised. But in most respects, outside of his mummy-chasing, he is an absolute ass. Money? Why, he would give away every cent if it occurred to him to do so. HE wouldn't know nor care. And what might become of him afterward he wouldn't care, either. If it wasn't that I watch him and try to keep his money out of his hands, I don't know what would happen. Kind? Yes, of course. And generous; good Lord! But when it comes to matters of sentiment like—well, like this stock business for example, he is, as I say, an ass, that's all.... I am telling you this, Miss Phipps, because I wouldn't wish you to consider old Loosh altogether a fool, but only—”