He's very
bitter."
Dick groaned. He was calmer now. "You're right, Major," he said
steadily; "it hurt so at first that I didn't think. I can't go now."
He leaned forward anxiously. "The Cotesville Bank--?" he questioned
abruptly.
"Crashed in the autumn--in September." Dick bit his lip, and the Major
added: "He was heavily interested?"
Dick stared at the fire. "It was all he had," he said.
"I see." The Major's quiet voiced gave no hint of his own emotion. "I
didn't know. Of course I heard he had lost something; we all did; but
I thought he had other money."
"No. Tell me, Major, you've been going to Brierwood this winter just
as usual?"
"Of course; every Wednesday night. The Colonel and I are too old to
alter the habit of a lifetime, and besides we both love that long
evening playing chess. There's always a roaring wood fire and a
steaming pot of coffee, and your mother always plays Beethoven for us
just before I go."
A look of relief shone in Dick's eyes. "'Always a fire,'" he repeated.
"I'm glad of that. There was no suggestion of--of want?"
"Heavens, no!" The Major's deep voice was full of assurance.
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