Leaving Nelson standing in the hall, she went into the lighted room, and the young man heard her talking persuasively to her master. Presently she came back and motioned the visitor to enter. He did so, finding the old man standing over a table covered with letters, deeds, and other legal documents. He did not offer his hand, and the young man stood in some embarrassment before him. “Well,” old Floyd said, “what do you want? Are you here to gloat over me?” “No, I am not,” returned the visitor. “It is simply because I do not feel that way that I came. A friend of mine was here to-day, and he said you were in trouble.” “Trouble?--huh!” snarled old Floyd. “I guess you are glad to know that.” “I certainly am not,” Nelson said, warmly. “I heard of it only a few minutes ago at the Kimball House, where I am staying, and I took the first car to reach you. I wish I had heard of the matter earlier--that is, if you will allow me to help you out.” “You--you help me?” Old Floyd extended his thin hand and drew a chair to him and sank into it. “They've all talked that way--every money-lender and banker that I have applied to. They all say they want to help, but when they look at these”--Floyd waved his hand despondently over the documents--“when they look at these, and see the size of the mortgage, they make excuses and back out. I don't want to waste time with you. I know what sort of man you are. You have made what you've got by being as close as the bark on a tree, and I'm going to tell you at the outset that I haven't any security--not a dollar's worth.” “I didn't want security,” Nelson said, looking sympathetically down into the withered face. “You don't want--” The old man, his hands on his knees, made an effort to rise, but failed. “My Lord, you say you don't want security; then--then what the devil _do_ you want?” “I want to _give_ you the money, if you'll do me the honor to accept it,” Nelson declared. “My friend told me the amount was exactly three thousand. I have drawn this check for four.” The young man was extending the pink slip of paper towards him. “And if that is not enough to put you squarely on your feet, I am ready to increase it.” “You mean--” The old man took the check and, with blearing eyes and shaking hands, examined it in the lamplight. “You mean that you will _give_--actually, _give_ me four thousand dollars, when I haven't a scrap of security to put up?” “Yes, that's exactly what I mean.” Old Floyd took his eyes from the check and shrinkingly raised them to the young man's face. Then he dropped the paper on the table and groaned. There was silence for a moment. The housekeeper, passing by the open door, looked in wonderingly, and moved on. The old man saw her, and, rising suspiciously, he shambled to the door and closed it. Then he turned aimlessly and came slowly back, his hand pressed to his brow.