"What's that?" asked the Doctor, frowning heavily. Richling smiled still broader than before. "This is a statement," he said. "Of what?" "Of the various loans you have made me, with interest to date." "Yes?" said the Doctor, frigidly. "And here," persisted the happy man, straightening out a leg as he had done the first time they ever met, and drawing a roll of notes from his pocket, "is the total amount." "Yes?" The Doctor regarded them with cold contempt. "That's all very pleasant for you, I suppose, Richling,--shows you're the right kind of man, I suppose, and so on. I know that already, however. Now just put all that back into your pocket; the sight of it isn't pleasant. You certainly don't imagine I'm going to take it, do you?" "You promised to take it when you lent it." "Humph! Well, I didn't say when." "As soon as I could pay it," said Richling. "I don't remember," replied the Doctor, picking up a newspaper. "I release myself from that promise." "I don't release you," persisted Richling; "neither does Mary." The Doctor was quiet awhile before he answered. He crossed his knees, a moment after folded his arms, and presently said:-- "Foolish pride, Richling." "We know that," replied Richling; "we don't deny that that feeling creeps in. But we'd never do anything that's right if we waited for an unmixed motive, would we?" "Then you think my motive--in refusing it--is mixed, probably." "Ho-o-oh!" laughed Richling. The gladness within him would break through. "Why, Doctor, nothing could be more different. It doesn't seem to me as though you ever had a mixed motive." The Doctor did not answer. He seemed to think the same thing. "We know very well, Doctor, that if we should accept this kindness we might do it in a spirit of proper and commendable--a--humble-mindedness. But it isn't mere pride that makes us insist." "No?" asked the Doctor, cruelly. "What is it else?" "Why, I hardly know what to call it, except that it's a conviction that--well, that to pay is best; that it's the nearest to justice we can get, and that"--he spoke faster--"that it's simply duty to choose justice when we can and mercy when we must. There, I've hit it out!" He laughed again. "Don't you see, Doctor? Justice when we may--mercy when we must! It's your own principles!" The Doctor looked straight at the mantel-piece as he asked:-- "Where did you get that idea?" "I don't know; partly from nowhere, and"-- "Partly from Mary," interrupted the Doctor. He put out his long white palm. "It's all right. Give me the money." Richling counted it into his hand. He rolled it up and stuffed it into his portemonnaie. "You like to part with your hard earnings, do you, Richling?" "Earnings can't be hard," was the reply; "it's borrowings that are hard." The Doctor assented. "And, of course," said Richling, "I enjoy paying old debts." He stood and leaned his head in his hand with his elbow on the mantel. "But, even aside from that, I'm happy."