“I can raise enough to meet all my present liabilities with ten thousand dollars. I have tried to borrow it everywhere, but everybody seems to have become suddenly shy of me for some reason, and I might as well be without a dollar in the world as without the whole amount. If I _could_ raise it, it would set me on my legs again, for my credit would be good, and, with care and patience, I believe I could retrieve my position.” Star almost held her breath while she waited for Mr. Rosevelt’s reply to this. To her infinite surprise, he turned to her. “My dear,” he said, gently, “you shall return some of the kindness of which you told me this morning. I think you understand what I want you to do.” He glanced as he concluded toward the private drawer in his desk, where he always kept his check-book, and she knew that he wanted her to go and fill out a check for the amount that Mr. Richards had named. She arose, went to the desk, unlocked the drawer with trembling fingers, and drew forth the book. Opening it, she filled out a check, as she had often done for him during the last few months, then tearing it out, carried it to him, with a pen filled with ink. He turned it over and wrote his name on the back without a word, and then returned it to her to sign. She took it mechanically, but stood irresolute for a moment, looking at him, while her cheeks grew crimson. “Give it to him, dear; it is to be your gift,” Mr. Rosevelt said, glancing at Mr. Richards, who sat staring at them both in blank amazement. A brilliant smile parted Star’s red lips; she shot a grateful look at Uncle Jacob, and advancing to their visitor’s side, laid the check down before him. One glance at the figures, and the overburdened man bowed his head upon the table with a groan. “I cannot take it! I cannot take it—and from _you_, of all persons!” he said, brokenly. “Why not from her?” Mr. Rosevelt asked, huskily. “All that I have belongs to this dear girl, and, as I have told her many times, I live only to make her happy. _She_ asked me to do this to-day after we had met you, because, she said, you had been kind to her in the past, and she longed to help you out of your trouble. So take it as her gift, my boy; make the best use of it that you can, and welcome.” George Richards groaned again, while he reached forth and grasped the old man’s hand, wringing it in silent gratitude, yet overwhelmed with shame and remorse as he remembered all that he and the fair-haired, gentle girl standing beside him had suffered while they were members of his family. He had no words of thanks to offer for this generous help in time of need, but if ever a world-weary heart was relieved of a burden too heavy to be borne, his was, when at length he folded that precious bit of paper and put it away for future use. When he arose to take his leave, he took both of Star’s hands in his and drew her aside, where he could speak to her alone.