"He didn't see how that chap was ever to pay his debts. One doctor twice a day for three months was enough to ruin anybody, let alone having two," and the sometimes far-seeing old colonel shook his head doubtfully. "Father," and Ellen stole softly to his side, "if Mr. Worthington wants money so badly, you'll lend it to him, won't you?" Again a doubtful shake as the prudent colonel replied: "And lose every red I lend, hey? That's the way a woman would do, I s'pose, but I am too old for that. Now, if he could give good security, I wouldn't mind, but what's he got, pray, that we want?" Ellen's gray eyes scanned his face curiously a moment, and then Ellen's rather pretty lips whispered in his ear: "He's got Rocket, pa." "Yes, yes, so he has; but no power on earth could make him part with that nag. I've always liked that boy, always liked old John, but the plague knows what he did with his money." "You'll help Hugh?" and Ellen returned to the attack. "Well," said the old man, "we'll see about this Hugh matter," and the colonel left the house, and entered the buggy which had been waiting to take him to Frankfort. "That's funny that I should run a-foul of him," he thought, stopping suddenly as he caught sight of Hugh, and calling out cheerily: "How d'ye, young man? That's a fine nag of yours. My Nell is nigh about crazy for me to buy him. What'll you take?" "What'll you give?" was Hugh's Yankee-like response, while the colonel, struck by Hugh's peculiar manner, settled himself back in his buggy and announced himself ready to trade. Hugh knew he could trust the colonel, and after a moment's hesitation told of his embarrassments, and asked the loan of five hundred dollars, offering Rocket as security, with the privilege of redeeming him in a year. "You ask a steep sum," he said, "but I take it you are in a tight spot and don't know what else to do. That girl in the snow bank--I'll be hanged if that was ever made quite clear to me." "It is to me, and that is sufficient," Hugh answered, while the old colonel replied: "Good grit, Hugh. I like you for that. In short, I like you for everything, and that's why I was sorry about that New York lady. You see, it may stand in the way of your getting a wife by and by, that's all." "I shall never marry," Hugh answered, thinking of the Golden Haired. "No?" the colonel replied. "Well, there ain't many good enough for you, that's a fact, and so I tell 'em when they get to--get to--" Hugh looked up inquiringly, his face flashing as he guessed at what they got. "Bless me, there's ain't many girls good for anybody. I never saw but one, except my Nell, that was worth a picayune, and that was Alice Johnson." "Who? Who did you say?" And Hugh grew white as marble.