"I 'll give you fifteen hundred dollars, and mail the money to you to-night." "See here, I don't know who ye be, but ye 're darned sassy. I won't trade with ye afore Monday an'--" "Then you won't trade at all." "I 'll split th'--" "You 'll take that price or leave it." "I'll take it, but--" "Good," broke in Donaldson sharply. "The operator here is a witness. I 'll send the money to-night, and have a tenant in the house Tuesday. Good night, Deacon." "If yer--" The rest of the sentence faded into the jangle of the line, but Donaldson broke in again. "Say, Deacon, were you really in bed at this time of night?" "Gol darn--" "Careful! Careful!" "Wall, ye need n't think cause ye 're in N' York ye can be so all-fired smart." A sharp click told him that the deacon had hung up the receiver in something of a temper. Donaldson came out of the booth, hesitated, and then put in another call. He found relaxation in the vaudeville picture he had of the spindle-shanked hypocrite fretting in the cold so many miles distant. He was morally certain that the old fellow had robbed the dying Burnham of half his scant property. If he had had the time he would have started a lawyer upon an investigation. As he did n't, and he saw nothing more entertaining ahead of him until morning, he took satisfaction in pestering him as much as possible in this somewhat childish way. "Keep at him until he answers," he ordered the girl. It took ten minutes to rouse the deacon again. "Is this Deacon Staples?" he inquired. "Consarn ye--" "I was n't sure you said good night. I should hate to think you went to sleep in a temper." "It's none of your business how I go to sleep. If you ring me up again I 'll have the law on ye." "So? I 'll return good for evil. I 'll give you a warning; look out for the ghost of old Burnham to-night." "For what?" There was fear in the voice. Donaldson smiled. This suggested a new cue. "He's coming sure, because his daughter is a widow, and needs that money." "I held his notes," the deacon explained, as though really anxious to offer an excuse. "I can prove it." "Prove it to Burnham's ghost. He may go back." "B--back where?" "To his grave. He sleeps uneasy to-night." "Be you crazy?" "Look behind you--quick!" The receiver dropped. Donaldson could hear it swinging against the wall. Without giving the deacon an opportunity to express his wrath and fears, Donaldson hung up his own receiver and cheerfully paid the cost of his twenty-minute talk. In spite of the fact that on Thursday night he had slept only three hours, that on Friday night he had not even lain down, his mind was still alert. He did not have the slightest sense of weariness. It was rest enough for him to know that the girl was asleep, relaxation enough to recall the maiden joy that had freshened the eyes of Mrs. Wentworth.