“Yes, I am sure of that, Mr. Walton. They have been so full of chatter about the girl that not a word has been said about money, although some think you actually furnished the ready cash for him to get away on.” The two sat silent for several minutes; then, shaking his tousled head and shrugging his gaunt shoulders in his faded black alpaca coat, the banker said, with grim finality of tone: “He's a bad egg, Toby. That fellow is rotten to the core. This last discovery really helps us hide the other matter, but the two of them put together will wipe his name off the slate of this town forever. He'll never dare to show his face here again. He might have tried to get around me and live down the shortage, but I reckon both things coming to a head at once kind o' broke his courage, and he decided to skedaddle. I have no pity for the girl neither--not a smidgin; a woman that would give in to a scamp like him don't deserve any man's pity. Say, Toby, I'm a peculiar in some ways: as long as I felt that I owed something to that boy as his father his doings kind o' lay on my mind, but he has plumb cancelled that obligation. I can get along without worry over him if he is put clean out of my calculations, so after this I don't want no human being to mention his name to me. I'll let 'em know that they can't joke with me about it on the street. I want you to go this minute to Bailey Thornton's store and ask him for my account up to date. Then I'll send him my check, and do my trading with Pete Longley. He will be trotting in to apologize, but keep him away from me. Huh! he can't sneer at me as I walk along the public highways of this town; his account with us isn't worth ten cents a month, and he's shaky, anyway. I wish I'd hit him in the mouth as he stood there gloating over his dirty joke!” CHAPTER XII |KENNETH GALT came back from Atlanta at the end of the week. John Dilk drove down, and brought him up from the station at dusk. Galt had just alighted at his front steps, and the carriage had gone round the house toward the stables in the rear, when he saw Margaret Dearing among the flowers on the lawn adjoining. Through an open window, in the glow of gas-light, he could see the supper-table waiting for him, and knew that his housekeeper, Mrs. Wilson, had all in readiness for his evening meal. He knew, too, that she was most particular about having his favorite dishes served while they were hot, and yet he could not resist the temptation to exchange greetings with this fair young girl whose genial friendship and interest in his affairs had always appealed to him. The prospects were very bright for success in his plan of building a railway from Stafford to the sea, and he was still young enough to want to warm himself in the smile of the girl's approval. “Oh, you are back!” she said, cordially, as he strode across the grass, and lightly vaulted over the row of boxwood which divided the two properties. “Uncle Tom will be delighted.”