"It's nothing to me. I'm done with him."
"'If the court knows itself, which it think it do,'" said Dr. Lavendar, chuckling, "you're just beginning with him."
"I'd rather have him decent, if that's what you mean. But I despise him."
"I don't," said Dr. Lavendar. "I tell you, John, we're poor, limited critters, you and I. We felt that no good could possibly come out of Nazareth. I must confess that when I got you to send him that money I was thinking more of the benefit to you than any effect it might have on him. I thought he didn't amount to two cents. To my shame I say it. But I was blind as a bat; the Lord had sent him a great experience—Mary's death. Well, it was like a clap of thunder on a dark night; the lightning showed up a whole landscape I didn't know. There was honesty; and there was perseverance; and there was love, mind you, most of all. Love! I tell you, Johnny, only the Lord knows what is lying in the darkness of human nature. In fact," said Dr. Lavendar, reflectively, "as I get older there is nothing more constantly astonishing to me than the goodness of the Bad;—unless it is the badness of the Good. But that's not so pleasant. No, sir; I don't despise Mr. Keen."
Nor did he despise Algy when the note had to be extended still again, although again Algy was ready not only with the interest, but with $37.50 of the principal.
VI
As Algernon struggled along with Rosebloom and cheap cigars and bright red and green perfumed soaps, the debt was lessened and lessened; and the back of the note was almost covered with extensions, yet only $317 had been paid off. In spite of himself John Gordon grew interested; he would not have admitted it for the world, but he wanted to hear about Dr. Lavendar's annual visits to Mercer; and Dr. Lavendar used to drive out to smoke a pipe with him and tell him what Algy had said and done. One day—it was seven years after the note had been drawn—a clear, heartless winter day, with a cold, high wind that made the old minister look so blue that John Gordon mixed a glass of whiskey-and-water and made him drink it before they began to talk—that day Mr. Gordon went so far as to ask a question about Algy. "Has he given you anything more for your complexion, Edward?" he said, with a faint grin.
"He gave me a smelling-bottle this time. I handed it over to Mary, and told her not to let me get a sniff of it; and she said, 'Sakes! it's beautiful!' But I'll tell you something he said, Johnny: he said that his debt to you was a millstone round his neck. And yet the truth is, it's a life-buoy!"
John Gordon looked at the soiled, crumpled paper, with its dates of extensions, and smiled grimly. "Well, I won't deprive him of his life-buoy."