"But you mustn't—I'll turn over the store to you, if——"
"O Lord!" Duncan's dismay was as genuine as his desire to escape Graham's gratitude. "No—don't! Please don't do that!"
"But I must do something, my boy. I can't accept so great a kindness— unless," said Graham with a timid flash of hope—"you'll consider a partnership——"
"That's it!" cried Duncan, glad of any way out of the situation. "That's the way to do it—a partnership. No, please don't say any more about it, just now. We can settle details later. ... We've got to get busy. Tell you what I wish you'd do while I'm busting open those boxes: if you don't mind going down to the station to make sure that everything's——"
"Yes, I'll go; I'll go at once." Sam groped for Duncan's hand, caught and held it between both his own. "If—if fate—or something hadn't brought you here to-day—I don't know what would've happened to Betty and me. ..."
"Never mind," Duncan tried to soothe him. "Just don't you think about it."
Graham shook his head, still bewildered. "Perhaps," he stumbled on, "to a gentleman of your wealth four hundred dollars isn't much——"
"No," said Duncan gravely, without the flicker of an eyelash: "nothing." Then he smiled cheerfully. "There, that's all right."
"To me it's meant everything. I—I only hope I'll be able to repay you some day. God bless you, my boy, God bless you!"
He managed to jam his hat awry on his white old head and found his way out, his hands fumbling with one another, his lips moving inaudibly— perhaps in a prayer of thanksgiving.