Mr. Gordon put out a trembling, detaining hand.
"Edward, you don't understand.... How much do you want for him?"
"He had saved about $1200 to go into some business. It's all gone."
"Well, I won't give it to him," the other repeated, with feeble sharpness; "I'll lend it—to please you."
"I'm sorry you haven't a better motive."
John Gordon got up and went over to his library-table and fumbled about in one of the drawers for his check-book. "I'm a fool," he said, fretfully; "I don't know but what I'm worse. Lending money to— But you say he was good to her? Poor Mary! Oh!" he ended, half to himself, "I don't know why Alex is so hard." Then he took his quill and began to scrawl his check. "I'd rather see him starve," he said.
"No, you wouldn't," Dr. Lavendar said, calmly.
"Well, there! Take it! Get a receipt."
"Johnny, think better of it."
"You needn't take it if you don't want to," the other said, sullenly.