"By the way, we've both forgotten something, Mr. Wallingford," she said. "Quarter day for the Bishops is long past due." "What is it that is past due?" he asked in surprise. "When my mother bought her stock, you know, you promised that she should have twelve per cent. interest on it, payable every three months." "That's right," he admitted, looking at her curiously, and before she started home that evening he handed her an envelope with thirty dollars in it. She immediately made a note of the amount and dropped it in the drawer of her desk. "Never mind entering that in your books," he said hastily, noting her action; "just keep the memorandum until we arrange for a regular dividend, then it can all be posted at once. It's--it's a matter that has been overlooked." She thanked him for the money and took it home with her. She had been planning for a week or more upon how to get this thirty dollars. On the very next day, while he was absorbedly poring over a small account book that he kept locked carefully in his desk, he found her standing beside him. "I'm afraid that I shall have to ask you to buy back mother's stock in the company," she said. That morning's mail had been unusually heavy in stock sale possibilities. "We have a sudden pressing need for that thousand dollars, and we'll just have to have it, that's all." Wallingford's first impulse was to dissuade her from this idea, but another thought now came to him as he looked musingly into his roll-top desk; and as the girl, standing above him, gazed down upon his thick neck and puffy cheeks, he reminded her of nothing so much as a monstrous toad. "Have you the stock certificate with you?" he inquired presently. No, she had not. "Well, bring it down to-night," he said, "and I'll give you a check for it. I'm going away on a little trip to-morrow, and I want you to get me up a statement out of the books, anyhow." For an instant the girl hesitated with a sharp intake of breath. Then she said, "Very well," and went home. That night, when she returned, she paused in the hall a moment to subdue her trepidation, then, whether foolish or not, but with such courage as men might envy, she boldly opened the door and stepped in. She found Wallingford at his desk, and she had walked up to him and laid at his elbow the stock certificate, properly released, before he turned his unusually flushed face toward her. In his red eyes she saw that he had been dining rather too well, even for him. She had been prepared for this, however, and her voice was quite steady as she asked: "Have you the check made out, Mr. Wallingford?" "There's no hurry about it," he replied a trifle thickly. "There's some work I want you to do first." "I'd rather you would make out the check now," she insisted, "so that I won't forget it."