“But--but why didn't you sell to me--to the town? If you had to sell why didn't you do that? Why did you go to him?” “Because he would pay me what I needed; because his price was higher than any you or the town could offer.” “How did you know that? My heavens above! I'd have paid--I'd have paid most anything--out of my own pocket, I would. I tell you this meant everything to me. I'm gettin' along in years. I ain't been any too well liked here in Denboro, and I knew it. You think that didn't make no difference to me, maybe I pretended it didn't, but it did; by the Almighty, it did! I intended for folks to be thankful to me for--I--Oh, WHY did you do it, Ros?” I shook my head. I was sorry for him now--sorry and astonished. He had given me a glimpse of the real Jedediah Dean, not the pompous, loud-voiced town politician and boss, but the man desirous of fighting his way into the esteem and liking of his neighbors. “I'm sorry, Captain,” I said. “If I had known--if I had had time to think, perhaps I might have acted differently. But I had no time. I found that I must have the money which that land would bring and that I had to have it immediately. So I went where I knew I could get it.” “Money? You needed money? Why didn't you come to me? I'd have lent it to you.” “You?” “Yes, me. What do you cal'late I've been backin' you all this summer for? What did I get you that job in my bank for?” “YOU? George Taylor engaged me for that place.” “Maybe so. But do you suppose he did it on his own hook? HE couldn't hire you unless the directors said so and the directors don't say anything, the majority of 'em, unless I say it first. _I_ put the notion in George's head. He didn't know it, but I did. And I put it in the directors' heads, too. Ros Paine, I always liked you, though I did use to think you was a gentleman loafer. There was a somethin' about you even then, a kind of hands-off, mind your own business independence about you that I liked, though I knew mighty well you never liked me. And after you and me got together on this Lane thing I liked you more and more. You could tell me to go to the devil as well as you could anybody else, and I'll shake hands with a feller that'll do that. I always wanted a boy of my own. Nellie's a good girl, no better afloat or ashore, but she is a girl. George is a good feller, too, but somehow, or 'nother, I'd come to think of you as the kind of son I'd have had, if the Almighty had give me one. Oh, what did you do this for?” I could not answer. He had overwhelmed me. I never felt meaner or more wicked. I had been ready to face him, ready for the interview with him which I knew was inevitable and which I had foreseen, but not this kind of an interview. He took his hand from the table and stood erect. “Money!” he said. “You wanted money. You must have wanted it bad. What did you want it for?” “I can't tell you.” “You had better. It's your only chance, I tell you that!”