"Jest draw on me, Frank. I ain't rich, but ef you want a hundred dollars or more, jest say so."
"Thank you, Mr. Tarbox," said Frank, gratefully. "I wouldn't hesitate to accept your very kind offer, but I do not now need it."
He then proceeded to explain his meeting with the Grosvenors just when he stood in most need of assistance. He dwelt upon the kindness they had shown him, and the pleasure he had experienced in their society.
"I'm glad you've been so lucky. Grosvenor is a brick, but it ain't surprisin' he should take a fancy to you."
"I suppose that is a compliment, Mr. Tarbox," said Frank, smiling.
"Perhaps it is. I don't know much about compliments, but I know I felt awful bad when I thought you was dead. I wanted to thrash that skunk within an inch of his life."
"I guess you could do it," said Frank, surveying the athletic form of his Yankee friend.
"I'll do it now if I ever come across him. Where do you think he is?"
"I think he has gone to America to ask pay for disposing of me."
"I guess so, too. They told me at that Hotel du Glacier (the last word Mr. Tarbox pronounced in two syllables) that he was goin' home to break the news to your folks. I guess your step-father won't break his heart badly."