"No," muttered Blake. He paused and then straightened to face his
friend. His eyes were blood-shot but resolute, his face impassive. "No.
I'll wait till after to-morrow. Big order on for to-morrow morning.
Appointment to meet H. V."
"Hey?"
"He was down at the depot. You can imagine how effusive he wasn't over my saving his daughter. Curse the luck! If only she had had any one else for a father!"
"Now, now, Tommy, don't fly off the handle. You know there are lots of 'em worse than H. V."
"None I'm in so hard with. First place, there's that Q. T. survey."
"That's all smoothed over. He came around all right. Just ask for your pay-check. He'll shell out."
"I'll ask for interest. Ought to have a hundred per cent. I needed the money then mighty bad."
"We all did. Let it slide. He's her father. You can't afford to buck his game."
"I'd do it quick enough if it wasn't for her," rejoined Blake. "That's where he's got me. Lord! if only he and she weren't—!" Blake's teeth clenched on the end of the sentence.
"Now look here, Tommy," protested Griffith. "This isn't like you to hold a grudge. It's true H. V. did us dirt on the survey pay. But he gave in, soon as I got a chance to talk it over with him."