stopped twirling the bunch of keys about his forefinger.
"Now, I know a man," said Heaphy, "who's got some money to spare, and if you're hard up, I could get some for you. He don't want any interest," he went on eagerly, "and you can pay him back after you get through college. He's helped me." And Heaphy at this turned as red in the face as his carrotty crop of stiff bristles,—"and I'm not going to worry over it; some day, perhaps, I'll tell you more about the matter, but I don't want to just now, for reasons."
Hart was touched. Heaphy's shorter nickname was "Irish," but Hart had a tendency (that he was nearly overcoming) to call almost everybody "Mr." But as he had found that this prevented close relationship, he was growing out of it. On this occasion his reply was so polite that only its heartiness prevented it from being distant.
"Thank you ever so much, Mr. Heaphy," he said, "but it isn't that. I have enough to carry me through the term, I guess. But—" he paused. "I'm ever so much obliged to you, and if I'm ever in trouble that way I
