“Get your husband to draw two or three notes in Mr. Granger's favor. They should not be for less than five hundred or a thousand dollars each. The dates must be short—not over thirty or sixty days.”
“It can't be done,” was the emphatic answer.
“It must be done,” replied Freeling; “they need not be for the business. You can manage the matter if you will; your daughter wants an India shawl, or a set of diamonds, or a new carriage—anything you choose. Mr. Dinneford hasn't the ready cash, but we can throw his notes into bank and get the money; don't you see?”
But Mrs. Dinneford didn't see.
“I don't mean,” said Freeling, “that we are to use the money. Let the shawl, or the diamond, or the what-not, be bought and paid for. We get the discounts for your use, not ours.”
“All very well,” answered Mrs. Dinneford; “but how is that going to help you?”
“Leave that to me. You get the notes,” said Freeling.
“Never walk blindfold, Mr. Freeling,” replied the lady, drawing herself up, with a dignified air. “We ought to understand each other by this time. I must see beyond the mere use of these notes.”
Freeling shut his mouth tightly and knit his heavy brows. Mrs. Dinneford watched him, closely.
“It's a desperate expedient,” he said, at length.