“I'm going down to Rowley's store to see if he will take his money back and let us save interest. He told me I'd have to keep the money for a year.” She called to him falteringly, but with such appeal in her tones that he halted and stared at her. “Couldn't you--Isn't it just as well to let the matter rest until--till--” “Oh, there's no time like the present in money matters,” he declared, with a laugh, wholly oblivious, not in the least understanding her embarrassment, her piteous effort to bar her little temple of love's sacrifice so that he could not trample in just then. His laugh was a forced one. He realized that if he did not hurry away from this girl he would be reaching out his arms to her, declaring the love that surged in him, now that he had awakened to full consciousness of that love; his Yankee reticence, his instinct of honor between men, were fighting hard against his passion; he told himself that he would not betray a man he did not know, nor proffer love to a girl who, so he believed, loved another. “May I not go with you?” she pleaded, restraining her wild impulse to run ahead of him and warn the deacon. “Of course!” he consented, and they walked down the street, neither daring to speak. They found Rowley alone in his store. He was puttering around, making ready to close the place for the night. As they entered, the girl stepped behind Mayo and, catching the deacon's eye, made frantic gestures. In the half gloom those gestures were decidedly incomprehensible; the deacon lowered his spectacles and stared at her, trying to understand this wigwagging. “I'd like to take up that loan and save the rest of the year's interest, Deacon Rowley,” stated Mayo, with sailorly bluntness. The girl was trying to convey to the deacon the fact that he must not reveal her secret. She was shaking her head. This seemed to the intermediary like direct and conclusive orders from the principal. “No, sir, Captain Mayo! It can't be done.” “I don't call that a square deal between men, no matter what straight business may be.” Polly now signaled eager assent, meaning to make the deacon understand that he must take the money. But the deacon did not understand; he thought the girl affirmed her desire for straight business. “You took it for a year. No back tracks, captain.” She shook her head, violently. “No, sir! Keep it, as you agreed, and pay your interest.” “Deacon Rowley, you're an old idiot!” blazed the girl. When the deacon yanked off his spectacles, and Captain Mayo turned amazed eyes to her, she put her hands to her face and ran out of the store, sobbing. She was only a girl! She had no more resources left with which to meet that situation in men's affairs. Mayo's impulse was to follow, but the deacon checked him. “I ain't going to be made a fool of no longer in this, even to make three hundred dollars,” he rasped. “A fool! What do you mean?” “You go settle it with her.”