Dave held out his hand, and the two men gripped.
"Thanks, Tom," he said simply, although he experienced a world of relief and gratitude. "I wouldn't insult you with a bribe before you consented, but when you come back there's a thumping check for your charities lying somewhere around my office."
The parson laughed in his whole-hearted fashion, while his friend once more donned his oilskins.
"I'm always open to that sort of bribery, old boy," he said, and was promptly answered by one of Dave's slow smiles.
"That's good," he said. Then he held up his other letter, but he did not offer it to be read.
"Betty told you what happened at my office the other day—I mean, what happened to Jim Truscott?" The parson's face clouded with swift anger.
"The ras——"
"Just so. Yes, we had some bother; but he's just sent me this. A most apologetic letter. He offers to sell me his mill now. I wanted to buy it, you know. He wants twenty thousand dollars cash for it. I shall close the deal at once." He laughed.
"Hard up, I s'pose?"
Dave shook his head.