“But, father,” Louie said, “you can’t take that money—Mr. Sheldon’s, for instance—and use it for yourself, can you? I supposed it was given you in trust.” “Certainly,” Mr. Grey replied, his usually pale face flushing a little. “It is in trust, but I can loan it out on good interest, which will be mine. You don’t suppose, do you, as some of those loggerheads seemed to think, that their money lies in the vault untouched and ready to be called for at any moment, even to the identical bills or silver, like Nancy Sharp’s?” Louie confessed herself rather hazy with regard to banking affairs, and only answered that she hoped there would never be a run on her father’s bank. “It will be teetotal failure when it comes, and not a run,” her father answered, while a shadow passed over his face and he seemed to be thinking of something far away from his surroundings. Meanwhile Louie was wondering what she should wear. “If I had accepted in the first place I could have had a new dress. Now, I must go in an old one,” she thought; her choice falling at last upon a simple white muslin, with knots of crimson ribbon, very becoming to her style of beauty. At least Fred Lansing thought so when about half-past eight he came himself, faultlessly attired in his evening dress and bringing a cluster of hot-house roses for Louie. “Oh, awfully sorry you are not going,” he said to Mr. Grey, while waiting for Louie, “and—er—well, you see, I was not quite sure about your going, and so I came myself as a chaperone. I did suggest to Miss Percy that she come—that is my father’s ward, you know—Blanche Percy—but she couldn’t, and so I came,” he added in an explanatory way, as he saw an expression, he could not understand, pass over Mr. Grey’s face at the mention of Miss Percy. In the excitement at the bank, after the run was over, Fred had not observed Mr. Grey particularly, but now, as he sat talking with him, he began at once to feel the charm of his manner and personality. “He may have been a gambler or a highwayman for aught I know, but he is every whit a gentleman,” he thought, and involuntarily contrasted him with the pompous judge, of whom he felt a little ashamed, and for whom he felt he must apologize. “My uncle is greatly upset by the humility put upon him,” he said, “and is not himself at all. He is, of course, deeply grateful to you, although his manner is rather unfortunate. But you know him well and can understand how terribly he was hurt.” With a wave of his hand Mr. Grey silenced Fred, and replied, “Don’t speak of it, please. I have lived by the side of the judge four years. I know him and his peculiarities, which only amuse me. I was glad to help him, but should not have thought of that way except for Louie. Oh, here she comes,” and he turned towards the door where Louie stood with her white evening cloak on her arm.