Mary remained twenty minutes longer, and when she was going out at the gate she met Doctor Harrison, who had just alighted from his buggy and was hitching his horse to a portable strap and iron weight near the fence. He doffed his straw hat and smiled from his genial, bearded, middle-aged face and twinkling blue eyes.

"So you\'ve turned nurse, have you?" he jested. "Well, I\'m glad you came, for more reasons than one."

"You think it was right, then?" she answered.

"Decidedly, Miss Mary. At such a time as this we should not listen to gossip, but simply act humanely."

"I hardly knew what to do, for some persons thought that it would look as if I—I admitted that my brothers were—"

"I know," the doctor broke in, "but, nevertheless, I\'m glad you put that aside. If I were on a jury—" He hesitated, as if he realized that he was on ground forbidden by due courtesy to her feelings. "Well," he started anew, "it can\'t possibly do any harm, and I am sure you will feel all the better for it."

"What are the chances for his recovery?" Mary asked, with bated breath, as she met his mild gaze with her steady eyes.

He looked toward the cottage door, placed his whip in the holder on the dashboard of the buggy, and then slowly swept his eyes back to her face.

"I am sorry to say—to have to say—that he is not doing so well. He seems a little weaker. However, when he gets to Atlanta—I hope I am not betraying secrets, but I met Albert Frazier just now and he told me that you had about concluded arrangements to supply the money. He did not say that he was telling me in confidence, but he may have meant it that way. People often say things to doctors, you know, that they would not make public, and if it is a private matter—"

"It is not, Doctor. I know—at least, I think I know—where I can get the money, and I shall not care who knows that it is from me. Tell me, please, do you think it best to send Tobe to Atlanta?"

"It is the only thing to do," was the decided answer. "You see, here in this small place we haven\'t the facilities, the surgical skill, the equipment for such a critical operation, and the truth is we all of us here balk at it. A doctor like Elliot can afford to take the risk, you see. If he should fail, you know there would be no criticism, while if one of us here were to do so we\'d be thought—well, almost criminally wrong."

Mary\'s face was brooded over now by a shadow. She shuddered; her eyes held a tortured look. "So you think he ought to go at once?" she said.

"The sooner the better, Miss Mary," was the prompt answer. She gave him her hand, and he wondered over the change in her mood as he lifted his hat.

"I\'ll let you know very soon, Doctor," were her parting words. "Please don\'t mention it, for the present, anyway. I think I know where I can get the money that is needed."

Mary walked on, now toward the square. Her step was slow, her eyes were on the ground.

"Oh God! how can I? And yet I must!" she groaned. "He means to make me take the money; that is plain. He understands what it would mean, and so do I; but, oh, I don\'t want to marry him. I\'d rather die—I would, I would, I would. And yet if I died—if I died—"

She had to pass through the square to get her horse, and she dreaded the possible encounter again with Albert Frazier. She felt relieved, on entering the square, to notice that he was not in sight. The plate-glass window of the bank, with its gilt-lettered sign, caught her eye. Why not try there to borrow the money, as a last resort? Perhaps the banker would consider lending her the money on her own name. She had heard of loans being made to women who had no security. Yes, she would try. It would be a last effort, but she must make it.

Entering the little building, she went to the opening in the wire netting and asked the cashier if Mr. Lingle were in. She was answered in the affirmative and directed to a half-closed door bearing the words, "The President\'s Office."

She opened the door without knocking, and saw the back and shaggy head of a man of sixty, without his coat, his collar and necktie loose, his sleeves rolled up, busy writing. Hearing her, he turned, suppressed a frown of impatience, stood up and bowed. His face was round, beardless, and reddish in tint.

"Oh, Miss Mary, how are you?" he asked, awkwardly extending a fat, perspiring hand. "Want to see me, eh, personally? Well, I\'m at your service, though these are busy days for us. What can I do for you?"

Her voice seemed to have deserted her. She was conscious of the fear that no words at all would come from her, and yet immediately she heard herself speaking in a calm, steady tone. She was smiling, too, as if she knew that what she was saying had a touch of absurdity in it.

"I\'ve come to bore you," she said. "I need some money, not on my father\'s account now, Mr. Lingle, for I know about his debt to you, but for myself, this time. I have no security beyond my word and promise to pay. It is a very serious matter, Mr. Lingle. You know about Tobe Keith\'s condition and that he must be sent to Atlanta. No one else will pay for it, and—"

"So you are going to mix yourself up in that mess, are you?" asked Lingle, frowning till his shaggy iron-gray brows met and all but overlapped. "If you were my daughter—Oh, what\'s the use? I\'m not your teacher, but if you were in my charge I\'d make you stay out of this. I know, I reckon, what\'s the matter. You feel responsible because your brothers were held accountable; that\'s like a woman. But all that is neither here nor there. I can\'t let you have any money at all. I\'m going to be plain. Maybe it will open your eyes a little to the facts. My dear girl, I hold a mortgage on all the crops in the ground at your place, on the very tools, cattle, hogs, and horses. Your father—I hate to say it—but your father is as helpless in business matters as a new-born baby. He belongs to the old order. He is up to his neck in debt to every friend he has. I can\'t let him have any more money, and I can\'t let you have any. I wouldn\'t let you have it for what you want it even if you had good collateral to pin to your note. I couldn\'t conscientiously do it, for it would be throwing it away. That drunken roustabout hasn\'t one chance in a thousand to live, anyway, and the country would be better off without his brand. As for your brothers—well, you\'d better keep them in the West. Men of your father\'s stamp don\'t have quite the influence they used to have. Our courts are being criticized for their lax methods so much that our judges and juries are becoming more careful in administering justice. If Tobe Keith dies—well, your brothers had better stay away, that\'s all."

"So there\'s no use asking you to—"

"No, Miss Mary, this bank can\'t mix up in such matters as that. Folks from up-to-date towns are making fun of us, too. One drummer was telling it around in Atlanta the other day that any stranger could cash a check here by simply inviting us to take a drink or handing us a cheap cigar. We are making new rules and sticking to them." With that the president of the bank turned toward his desk and reached out for a sheet of paper on which he had been writing.

"I thank you, Mr. Lingle," she faltered. "I am sure that you know best."

He held his paper in his left hand while he gave her his right, and made a sort of scraping movement with his foot as he executed a bow.

As she went back into the main room she was conscious of the fear that Albert Frazier might have discovered her presence at the bank and be waiting for her outside. Why, she asked herself, was the thought actually so terrifying? He might propose that he should have her horse sent out and that he be allowed to drive her home. In that case it would all be over. She would have to give the promise he had so long sought and she had so long withheld. A thrill of relief went through her on finding that he was not in sight anywhere about the busy square. She walke............