"That's pretty good pay," said Grit quietly. "What have you got to do?"
"That would be telling," said Brandon cunningly. "It's a joint speculation of my friend Travers and myself—my friend Travers, whom you treated so badly. It's he that's brought me this fine offer, and you insult and order him out of the house. You were just as bad as Grit, Mrs. B."
"You are welcome to all you make, Mr. Brandon," said Grit. "Neither my mother nor myself will ask a penny of the handsome sum you expect to make. You can spend it all on yourself if you like. All we ask is, that you will take care of yourself, and leave us alone."
"I mean to do so," said Brandon independently, "but, as I shan't get the money for three or four days, I should like to borrow five dollars, and I'll repay you double within a week."
"That's a very generous offer," said Grit, "but I don't lend without better security."
"Isn't there anything to eat in the house, Mrs. B.?" asked Brandon, changing the subject. "I'm famished."
"You will find some cold meat, and bread, and butter in the pantry."
Brandon went to the pantry, and satisfied his appetite as well as he could. He then went out, and Grit soon followed.
"Mother," he said, "I have an important call to make, but will be back soon."
It will be remembered that Mr. Courtney had formerly been president of the bank, but proving unpopular in consequence of his disposition to manage it in his own interest, Mr. Philo Graves, a manufacturer, was put in his place. To the house of Mr. Graves Grit directed his steps.