take it. Mrs. Cowgill leaned over and looked at it, lifted her hands in her gesture of absolute surrender, opened her mouth in soundless astonishment, and stood posed that way, waiting for Tom to pick it up.
"Why, sir, I couldn't begin to accept of it!" said Tom.
"My-y-y lands!" Mrs. Cowgill said.
"We realize that money can't pay you for the service you've done us," the banker continued, trying to make it easier for Tom, it seemed. "Our appreciation goes with the check, our unbounded admiration and respect."
"That's worth more to me than any amount of money, sir," Tom replied, with simple dignity, simple sincerity. "Please hand this check back to the directors with my thanks. I couldn't think of accepting of it, sir."
"My-y-y lands! but you're easy!" Mrs. Cowgill said.
Louise took up the check, seeing the banker's embarrassment, and handed it back to him with a smile.
"Please put it on deposit to his account, Mr. Weaver," Louise requested, such a red rush of blood Tising to her face that the last tear in her eyes must have been evaporated as if dropped on Mrs. Cowsgill's range.
"Good!" said the banker. "Endorse it for him," offering his pen with a broad smile. "Now, that settles it."
"I couldn't begin to think of ever drawin' on it," Tom protested.
"Keep still," the banker advised, "and let your man-
