Mr. Buchanan went first to the bank, and drew out the money--the residue of the loan which had been placed there for Marion’s final equipment. In those days people did not use cheques, as we do now for every purpose. When a man paid a debt, it seemed far more sure and satisfactory to pay it in actual money. To all, except to business men, the other seemed a doubtful, unsatisfactory way, and those who received a cheque made great haste to cash it as if in the meantime the bank might break, or the debtor’s balance turn the wrong way. To pay with a simple bit of paper did not seem like paying at all. Mr. Buchanan received his fifty pounds in crisp new notes, pretty notes printed in blue and red. They were like a little parcel of pictures, all clean and new. He looked at them with a forlorn admiration: it was seldom he saw such a thing as a ten-pound note: and here were five of them. Ah, if that had been all! “Sit down quickly and write fourscore.” This variant troubled his mind a little in his confusion! But that was measures of wheat, he said to himself, with a distracted sense that this might somehow make a difference. And then he walked up the High Street in the morning sunshine to Mr. Morrison’s office; and sure enough the writer was there and very glad to see him, so that no chance of escape remained. “I have come to speak to you,” the minister said, clearing his throat, and beginning with so much difficulty--he that would read you off an hour’s sermon without even pausing for a word!--“about business, Morrison--about a little--monetary transaction there was--between me and our late--most worthy friend----” “Anderson?” said the writer. And then he added with a half laugh, tempered by the fact that “the death” had been so recent. “Half St. Rule’s, I’m thinking, have had monetary transactions with our late friend----” “He would not permit any memorandum of it to be made,” said the minister. “No: that was just like him: only his estate will be the worse for it; for we can’t expect everybody to be so frank in acknowledging as you.” Mr. Buchanan turned the colour of clay, his heart seemed to stop beating. He said: “I need not tell you--for you have a family of your own--that now and then there are expenses that arise.” The lawyer waved his hand with the freemasonry of common experience. “Well I know that,” he said; “it is no joke nowadays putting the laddies out in the world. You will find out that with Willie--but what a fine opening for him! I wish we were all as well off.” “Yes, it is a good opening”--if it had not been that all the joy and the pride in it was quenched by this!--“and that is precisely what I mean, Morrison. It was just Willie--ordinary expenses, of course, my wife and I calculate upon and do our best for--but an outfit----”