Mr. Bates nodded.
"And you knew what you were talking about—no one better. And for why? Because it was your own story you were telling me, in the form of a parable."
"You're wrong there, William."
"Not a bit. You'd had one rat—but, by Jupiter, he was a whooping big 'un, and he'd eaten your grain, and messed you up—he'd ruined your business, and well-nigh broken your heart, and practically done for you."
"Have you finished?" asked Mr. Bates, with dignity.
"Yes, sir—almost;" and Dale in the most earnest manner besought his old friend to resist any further attacks from that wicked son. "I do implore you, sir, not to be weak and fullish. Don't take him to your boosum. He's a rat still—an' he'll gnaw and devour the little that's left to you, so sure as I sit here."
But it was all no use, as he could easily see. Mr. Bates raised his eyes, moved his feet, and then spoke gently but proudly.
"I thank you, William, for your well-meant intentions. I have listened to what you wished to say. Now shall we talk of something else?"
"Yes—but with just this one proviso added. Will you remember that I am your banker, for the full half of what the banker's worth? If the pinch comes, draw on me."
"I thank you again, William. But I shan't need help."