in his clear, fine hand, each sum scrupulously set down with its corresponding date, and at the end of the column of figures the total—$510. Slapping his breast-pocket, he remarked that a duplicate of the memorandum lay there for his benefit and the stimulating of his memory.
"And when the days of the lean kine are over," he said, "we will wipe it all out—clean the slate."
His friend disclaimed any eagerness as to the arrival of these golden days, accommodated the colonel with his customary sum, and saw the old man go striding out in lofty satisfaction. Left by himself, he idly looked over the colonel's memorandum. It was a full statement, the dates preceding each sum, and at the top bearing the legend, "Memorandum of moneys loaned by John Gault to Ramsay Reed."
He threw the paper into a drawer of his desk and thought no more about it, though he could not forbear smiling at the old man's studied preciseness.
After considerable reflection, Gault decided that the best way to bring matters to the crisis he desired was to ask Viola to accord him an interview. He would manage to make the request at some moment when the old man was either not listening—which was unusual—or
