Septimus reflected, and said, hesitatingly: "I think I should do what Zora would like. She doesn't mind empty pockets." Sypher dashed his hand across his forehead, and broke into a loud cry. "I knew you would say that. I brought you here to say it! Thank God! I love her, Septimus. I love her with every fiber in me. If I had sold my name to these people I should have sold my honor. I should have sold my birthright for a mess of pottage. I couldn't have looked her in the face again. Whether she will marry me or not has nothing to do with it. It would have had nothing to do with it in your case. You would have been the best kind of fool and so shall I." He swung about the room greatly excited, his ebullient nature finding in words relief from past tension. He laughed aloud, proclaimed his love for Zora, shook his somewhat bewildered friend by the hand, and informed him that he, Septimus, alone of mortals, was responsible for the great decision. And while Septimus wondered what the deuce he meant, he rang the bell and summoned Shuttleworth. The dismal manager entered the room. On seeing Sypher's cheery face, his own brightened. "I've thought the matter over, Shuttleworth." "And you've decided--" "To refuse the offer, absolutely." The manager gasped. "But, Mr. Sypher, have you reflected--" "My good Shuttleworth," said Sypher, "in all the years we've worked together have you ever known me to say I've made up my mind when I haven't?" Shuttleworth marched out of the room and banged the door, and went forth to declare to the world his opinion of Clem Sypher. He had always been half crazy; now he had gone stick, stark, staring, raving, biting mad. And those to whom he told the tale agreed with him. But Sypher laughed his great laugh. "Poor Shuttleworth! He has worked hard to bring off this deal. I'm sorry for him. But one can't serve God and Mammon." Septimus rose and took his hat. "I think it awfully wonderful of you," he said. "I really do. I should like to talk to you about it--but I must go and see Emmy. She came last night." Sypher inquired politely after her health, also that of her baby. "He's taking such a deuce of a time to grow up," said Septimus. "Otherwise he's well. He's got a tooth. I've been wondering why no dentist has ever invented a set of false teeth for babies." "Then your turn would come," laughed Sypher, "for you would have to invent them a cast-iron inside." Before Septimus went, Sypher thrust a gold-headed umbrella into his hands. "It's pouring with rain, and you'll wade about and get wet through. I make a rule never to lend umbrellas, so I give you this from a grateful heart. God bless you." CHAPTER XXII