He moved slowly into the bank, hung up his hat in the little hallway deliberately, and quite after the manner in which he went to meet business proposals, with his rough face grimly set against rejections and compromises. She was going to cast him down, but he'd show her that he was game. She had practically closed the matter during his interview with her, and had only delayed longer at his earnest request. No, she shouldn't chuckle over his defeat. He didn't know but what he'd throw out a hint that Fred wasn't really so very “rampageous” in the matter, after all. “Oh, how do you do?” he said, as he went in. She started to hold out her hand, but, not looking for such a movement, he failed to see it, and lunged toward his desk, where he sat and took up a pen. “Well, I reckon,” he began, awkwardly, “you've' come to see me about--to say whether or not--that is, you remember, I said if you finally decided--” “I _have_ decided, Mr. Walton.” She rose and came and stood over him. Her voice was quivering; there was a blaze of burning joy in her face and eyes, but he did not see it. “Oh, you _have!_ Well, it's for you to say whether you thought best or not. I reckon I went just a _little_ mite beyond my authority up there, in my effort to conduct Fred's affairs for him, without, you understand--without his _free_ consent. I only thought, maybe, if you would signify your willingness to overlook certain rather shady things, Fred might take it as a sort o'--sort o' all-round sign from _this_ end--a sort of index of public opinion bearing on his particular case, and--” “Yes, I have decided, Mr. Walton,” Margaret broke in. “I have come to ask you to write to him. Tell him, please, that I'd like to see him. I feel sure that when he gets home he and I will fully understand each other.” “Good gracious, Miss Margaret, you don't mean--” Simon stood up to his full height, his old eyes blinking in astonishment. “Yes, I do, Mr. Walton. I want to see him and talk to him. I don't know how to say it to _you_, but I am sure Fred will understand. Tell him that I--that I kissed you for his sake, there!” And before Simon could avoid it she had thrown her arms around his neck and actually pressed her lips to his grizzled cheek. To add to his confusion, Toby hastily entered the room just as she was releasing her dumfounded captive. “Oh!” Toby gasped, his face ablaze with embarrassment, “I didn't mean to; but the General is at the door in his carriage, and asked if you were in here. Of course, Miss Margaret, I hadn't the least idea but--” “Well, don't let it get out, for all you do, Toby,” Margaret laughed, merrily. “Don't forget, Mr. Walton; by to-night's mail, sure!” And the next instant she had floated out of the room, leaving the red-face banker under the perplexed stare of his apologetic clerk.