It seemed too good to be true, and the girl's face brightened until it shone with a light that the father thought the most beautiful on earth. Now she could return the thousand dollars she had borrowed of Mr. Roseleaf, a sum that had given her much uneasiness since she broke off her intimate relations with the young novelist. More than this, she would have [sufficient] on hand to send the future amounts that Hannibal would need to keep him abroad. It was such a strange and delightful thing to see smiles on her father's face that she did not want anything to disturb them. She was quite as happy as Mr. Fern, now that this cloud had been lifted from her mind.
The next day was a bright one for the wool merchant. By noon he had sent for Walker Boggs and astonished that gentleman by handing him a check in full for the entire amount of his indebtedness. In answer to a question he merely said he had been on the right side of the market. Mr. Fern also settled with his mortgage creditor, and went home at night happy that his head would again lie under a roof actually as well as in name his own. Notes which he had given came back to him soon after, and he burned them with a glee that was almost saturnine. Burned them, after looking at their faces and backs, after scanning the endorsements; burned them with his office door locked, using the flame of a gas-jet for the purpose.
The ashes lay on the floor, when a knock was heard and Archie Weil's voice answered to the resultant question. Mr. Fern lost color at the familiar sound, but he mustered courage.
"I've come to congratulate you," said Archie, warmly. "They say you have made a mint of money out of the rise in wool."
"Who says so?" asked Mr. Fern, warily.
"Everybody. Don't tell me it's not true."
"I've done pretty well," was the evasive reply. "And I'm going out of business, too. It seems a good time to quit."
Mr. Weil made a suitable answer to this statement and the two men talked together for some time. After awhile the conversation took a wider turn.
"Where's your young friend, Roseleaf?" asked Mr. Fern, to whom the matter did not seem to have occurred before. "I don't believe I have seen him at Midlands for a month."