Part 142

“If it's about the schooner, I'd rather do business with men-folks,” he said.

“This is business that only you and I can do, and it must be a secret between us. Will you please glance at this bank-book?”

He licked a thin finger and turned the leaves.

“Deposit of five thousand dollars and accrued interest,” he observed, resuming his inquisitive inspection of her animated countenance.

“My mother's sister left me that legacy. It's all my little fortune, sir. I want to loan that money to my father and Captain Mayo.”

“Well, go ahead, if you're fool enough to. I ain't your guardeen,” assented Deacon Rowley, holding the book out to her. “But I advise you to keep your money. I know all about their foolishness.”

“My father wouldn't take it from me--and Captain Mayo wouldn't, either.”

“That shows they ain't rogues on top of being fools.”

“But I have faith that they can succeed and make a lot of money if they get a start,” she insisted. “I see you do not understand, sir, what I need of you. I want you to lend them that money, just as if it came from you. I'll give you the book and a writing, and you can draw it.”

“No, ma'am.”

“Won't you help a girl who needs help so much? You're a Christian man, you say.”

“That's just why I can't lie about this money. I'll have to tell 'em I'm lending it.”

“You will be lending it.”

“How's that, miss?”

“For your trouble in the matter I'll let you collect the interest for yourself at six per cent. Oh, Deacon Rowley, all you need to do is hand over the money, and say you prefer not to talk about it. You're a smart business man; you'll know what to say without speaking a falsehood. You'll break my heart if you refuse. Think! You're only helping me to help my own father. He has foolish notions about this. You can say you'll let them have it for a year, and you'll get three hundred dollars interest for your trouble.”

“I don't believe they'll ever make enough to pay the interest--much less the principal.”

“Give them five thousand dollars and draw a year's interest for yourself out of my interest that has accrued.”

“Say, how old be you?”

“I'll be twenty-two in June.”

Deacon Rowley looked at her calculatingly, fingering his nose.

“Being of age, you ought to know better, but being of age, you can do what you want to with your own. Do you promise never to let on to anybody about this?”

“I do promise, solemnly.”

“Then you sign some papers when I get 'em drawn up, and I'll hand 'em the money; but look-a-here, if I go chasing 'em with five thousand dollars, I'll have 'em suspecting that I'm crazy, or something worse. It ain't like Rufus Rowley to do a thing of this sort with his money.”

“I know it,” she confessed, softening her frank agreement with an ingenuous smile. “But Captain Mayo is coming to you to-morrow morning on business about the schooner, and you can put the matter to him in some way. Oh, I know you're so keen and smart you can do it without his suspecting a thing.”

“I don't know whether you're complimenting me or sassing me, miss. But I'll see it through, somehow.”

She signed the papers giving him power of attorney, left her bank-book with him, and went away into the night, her face radiant.

She threw a happy kiss at the dim anchor light which marked the location of the Ethel and May in the harbor.

“I am helping you get the girl you love,” she said, aloud.