"Molly," said the colonel, as his daughter came into the office, "I've given a check for that--that money, you know, to Adrian--paid it in full, my dear. But--" the colonel fumbled with his pencil a moment and added, "I'm a trifle shy--a few thousand in point of fact, and I just thought I'd ask--would you borrow it of Bob, if you were me?" He looked at her closely, and she coloured and shook her head vehemently as she replied: "Oh, no, father--no, can't you get it somewhere else? Not from Bob--for that! I mean--oh--I'd much rather not." The colonel looked at his daughter a moment and drew a deep breath, and sighed, and smiled across his sigh, and took her hand and put it around his neck and kissed it, and when she was close to him he put his arm about her, and their eyes met for a fleeting instant, and they did not speak. But in a moment from across his desk the daughter spoke, "Why don't you go to John or Carnine, father?" "Well, Gabe--you know Gabe. I'm borrowed clear to the limit there, now. And John--you know John, Molly--and the muss, the disagreeable muss,--the row, in point of fact, we had over that last seventy-five dollars settling up the College Heights business--you remember? Well, I just can't go to John. But," he added cheerfully, "I can get it elsewhere, my dear--I have other resources, other resources, my dear." And the colonel smiled so gayly that he deceived even his daughter, and she went home as happy as a woman with eyelids as red as hers were that day might reasonably expect to be.