"Yes, I remember. It was sixty pounds."
"Well, Ellen, he has been rather long getting up, but it is really coming at last. He called in at the office this morning, and repaid me the half of the loan. Poor Martin! he is honourable as the day. He says the not being able to repay me when the bank went worried him terribly; and all the more so, because I never bothered him."
"Did you ask him for it then?"
"No. I was sure he had it not in his power to refund, and so left him in peace. Ellen, if I were dying for money--if I saw my wife and child dying for it--I think I could not be harsh with those who owed it me, where I knew they were helpless in means, though good in will, to pay."
He had put down the brush, and was taking a small packet of notes from his pocketbook, laughing rather gaily.
"I'm like a schoolboy showing his treasures. See, love. Six five-pound notes. We can help Mrs. Winny."
Ellen's fair fresh face broke into dimples. "And we can take a holiday too, Hamish?"
"Ah no. At least I can't. That's over."
"But why?"
"Because when I declined the holiday, the clerk under me was allowed to take one, and another of them is ill. I must stick to my post this year."