“I took the account from my pocket (I had it with me, fearing the worst), and we laid his cheque-book before him on the bed. Jarvis thinking him too faint to write tried to guide his hand as he filled in the sum. But he shook his head.
“‘The room is getting dim,’ he said. ‘I can see nothing but the figures.’
“‘Never mind,’ said Jarvis,—much moved, ‘that’s enough.’
“‘Is it four hundred and thirty?’ he asked faintly.
“‘Yes,’ I said, and I could feel the tears rising in my eyes, ‘and fifty cents.’
“After signing the cheque his mind wandered for a moment and he fell to talking, with his eyes closed, of the new federal banking law, and of the prospect of the reserve associations being able to maintain an adequate gold supply.
“Just at the last he rallied.
“‘I want,’ he said in quite a firm voice, ‘to do something for both of you before I die.’
“‘Yes, yes,’ we said.
“‘You are both interested, are you not,’ he murmured, in City Traction?’