“Possible! oh, yes, more than possible; how could you doubt it?” he said. The poor man felt himself float off those poor feet that had plodded along the street so heavily, into an atmosphere of ease, of peace, of consolation unspeakable. The thing could be done. Instead of bringing a cold shade over his friend’s face, it brought a light of kindness, even of pleasure. Yes, of pleasure, pleasure in being trusted, in being the first to whom recourse was made, in being able to give at once relief. It was so great a gleam of that sunshine which sometimes comes out of a human face, brighter than the very sun in the firmament, that poor Buchanan was dazzled, and for the moment made to think better even of himself as calling forth such friendship and kindness. A glow came into his heart, not only of gratitude but of approval. To see a man do what in one circumstance is the highest and noblest thing to do, to feel him exceed all our expectations, and play the part almost of a beneficent God to misfortune, what more delightful spectacle is there, even if it had nothing to do with ourselves. Mr. Buchanan poured forth all his soul to his old friend, who understood everything at half a word, and only hesitated to think which would be the best way of fulfilling his wishes. It was by old Anderson’s advice at last that the idea of the bank was abandoned. He decided that it would be better to lend the money to the minister himself. “We will have no fixed times or seasons,” he said. “You shall pay me just as you can, as you are able to put by a little, and we’ll have no signing of papers. You and me can trust each other; if I die before you, as naturally I will, you’ll make it up to my heirs. If you, which God forbid, should die before me, there will be no use of paper to trouble your wife. It’s just between you and me, nobody has any business to make or mell in the matter. I have no fine laddie to put out in the world, the more’s the pity; and you have, and a bonnie lassie too, I wish you joy of them both. We’ll just say nothing about it, my dear sir, just a shake of the hand, and that’s all there’s needed between you and me.” “But, Mr. Anderson, how can I accept this? You must let me give you an acknowledgment. And then the interest----” “Toots,” said the old man, “interest! what’s fifteen pounds to me? I hope I can live and enjoy myself without your fifteen pounds. Nonsense, minister! are you too proud to accept a kindly service, most kindly offered and from the heart, from an old man, that you have done both good and pleasure to many a day?” “Oh, proud, no, not proud,” cried Buchanan, “unless it were proud of you, old friend, that have the heart to do such a blessed thing.” “Hoot,” said the old man, “it’s nothing but filthy siller, as your good wife says.”