Mr. Richards cast a startled look at the old gentleman at this question; then, while a deep flush mounted to his brow, he said:
“I can raise enough to meet all my present liabilities with ten thousand dollars. I have tried to borrow it everywhere, but everybody seems to have become suddenly shy of me for some reason, and I might as well be without a dollar in the world as without the whole amount. If I could raise it, it would set me on my legs again, for my credit would be good, and, with care and patience, I believe I could retrieve my position.”
Star almost held her breath while she waited for Mr. Rosevelt’s reply to this.
To her infinite surprise, he turned to her.
“My dear,” he said, gently, “you shall return some of the kindness of which you told me this morning. I think you understand what I want you to do.”
He glanced as he concluded toward the private drawer in his desk, where he always kept his check-book, and she knew that he wanted her to go and fill out a check for the amount that Mr. Richards had named.
She arose, went to the desk, unlocked the drawer with trembling fingers, and drew forth the book.
Opening it, she filled out a check, as she had often done for him during the last few months, then tearing it out, carried it to him, with a pen filled with ink.
He turned it over and wrote his name on the back without a word, and then returned it to her to sign.
She took it mechanically, but stood irresolute for a moment, looking at him, while her cheeks grew crimson.