When the dominie left Burton sat in thought. Lucille had not made David a present of the money, he decided, for he could not imagine David accepting any such gift, and it was fairly sure that David would not accept the money as a loan unless he felt sure of repaying it. That meant that he must be sure of an increase in salary, and that in turn meant that Lucille must have promised an increased subscription, doubtless asking that her intention be kept secret for the present. All this was not difficult to imagine, but B. C. was pleased that he was able to follow the clew so well. He decided that it would be safest to let David handle the matter, with an occasional hint to David to keep him working for the subscription. He derided this placidly and with the pleasant feeling that the dominie's refund, added to the cash already on hand, made the church's bank balance more respectable. He liked a good bank balance; the bank paid the church four per cent on its balances and he was always pleased when the item “bank interest” in his report amounted to a decent figure. He walked home feeling well satisfied. As he passed the old Fragg homestead he nodded to David's father-in-law who was coming through the gateway. The old man crossed the street. “My housekeeper is sick,” he said, as a man who feels the necessity of telling his banker why he is neglecting his business during business hours. “She's pretty bad this time, I'm afraid. I've got Rose Hinch, and the doctor has been here. No hope, I'm afraid.” “Mary Ann is an old woman,” said the banker philosophically. “Yes, yes!” agreed Fragg nervously. What he did not say was that if Mary Ann died he would have to find another housekeeper, and that--in Riverbank--would be a hard task. Mary Ann had been with him while his wife was alive, had been with him when 'Thusia was born. She knew his ways, and a new housekeeper would not. “Yes, we must all die!” he said. “I got your notice that my note comes due next week. I suppose it will be all right to renew it again?” “Quite. Not much coal business in midsummer, I imagine,” said the banker. “Very little. Well--” He looked at the house and then down the street, and hurried away. The banker continued his easy, homeward way.