"But you own the mortgage?" "Yes." "Thorn did n’t want to sell it." "No--but he had to take payment if it came when the mortgage matured." "It is n’t due for six weeks yet." "He did n’t mind being paid sooner, when he found all hope of the chance of foreclosing was gone." "He would n’t sell for the face of it?" "I ’m not familiar with business terms," urged Shirley. "Not? A girl who holds a position with Townsend & Company! Tell me, Shirley--you did n’t get that mortgage six weeks before it was due, for the face value of it?" "Not quite." "How much did you pay?" "Not more than it was worth." "Please tell me _how much more_ you paid." "I think that’s my affair," said Shirley, with her head up. But her eyes were down. There was a silence. Peter put his hand to his mouth with intent to cover a sudden urgent and unwonted necessity to steady his lips. He encountered the beard, tore it off, and cast the wig beside it upon the floor. A young man with a face of mingled light and shadow emerged from the disguise of the elderly one. "If I didn’t know that, with this farm as security, you ’d made a safe investment, I could n’t stand this." he said, in a low tone. "But I know that making a safe investment was the last thing you cared about. You wanted to stand by in a time of need--and you ’ve done it." "You mustn’t think," said Shirley, looking up eagerly, "that you ’re under the least obligation to me. It’s just as you say. The farm itself is more than security. It’s merely a matter of business. You know, I ’m learning to manage my little affairs. Father thought it would be good for me. And a change of investment like this is great fun." Peter looked at her steadily. "Oh, no, we ’re not under the least obligation to you!" he answered. "It’s very easy to find people to take a mortgage at terms that will induce a man to sell it who ’s looking for a chance to foreclose--that’s why I have n’t done any worrying about the matter! Shirley--you ’re----" he seized her hand. "You’re----" "It ’s all right," said Shirley, turning her head away with a sudden access of shyness. There was no knowing what terms Peter might be going to use, when his voice dropped to that vibrating note. But she did not escape. Peter was ordinarily a self-controlled young man, with a cool head not likely to be carried away by sudden emotion. But he had a warm heart, none the less, and the girl’s friendly act had touched him deeply. Besides, he was, as has been admitted before, entirely human, and Shirley, in her gray and scarlet, with her brilliant cheeks and drooping eyes, was a very captivating figure. Tightening his grasp upon her hand he ended his impulsive speech half under his breath with--"You ’re the--dearest--girl in the world!"