AS David entered Herwig's store P. K. Welsh was leaving it. He was the same greasy, unkempt figure as usual, his pockets stuffed full of copies of the Declarator and exchanges, his bent shoulders carrying his head low, and his bushy brows drawn into a frown. He pushed by the dominie as if not seeing him. David turned, but the old man was already in the street, crossing it, and David went into the store. He had had a momentary impulse to stop P. K., and speak of the engagement, but he decided that telling his father was Lanny's affair. He went back to where Herwig sat at his desk.

The grocer was working on his books, with a pile of bills and statements before him.

“That man Welsh is a town nuisance,” he said. “Can't drive him away with a club; been pestering me an hour.”

He did not say how he had finally driven Welsh away. P. K. had wanted a dollar's worth of sugar, and had set his mind on getting it from Herwig in exchange for advertising. Herwig had told him he couldn't afford to give a dollar's worth of sugar for advertising or anything else. He couldn't afford to give a cent's worth. He showed P. K. the bills he owed, and the bills owed to him. It happened that David's statement was the top of the pile.

“He ought to pay you,” P. K. had snarled. “Man getting a salary like his; big church, rich congregation. What right has he to owe money!”

“Well, he owes me,” said Herwig. “Everybody owes me. Credit is the curse of this town. I can't get money in, and I can't pay my bills, and if I don't I'm going to be shut up.”

“One dollar's worth of sugar won't—”

“Oh, go away! I tell you no, and I mean no! Get out!”

P. K. had gone. Going he had seen the dominie plainly enough, and bitter hatred had been in his glance. Lanny had not told him of the engagement, but his wife had; and that alone was enough to anger the embittered, old man. On the street his anger grew. Why had the dominie not stopped him and said something about the engagement? Too stuck-up! Stuck-up, and with an unpaid grocer's bill! He went mumbling down the street, coaxing his ill humor.

“I'm glad to say I've been able to raise some money,” David said, “and we will just settle that bill without further delay. And right glad I am to be able to do so, Mr. Herwig. The amount is?”

“It will be a help, a great help,” said Herwig gratefully. “Thank you! When a man is pressed on all sides—”

He was distraught with worry, it was easy to see.

“That Welsh pesters the life out of me. I can't afford to advertise in his vile sheet; it's blackmail; money wasted—thrown away. He ought to be run out of town—tarred and feathered. Brought up a good-for-nothing, bartending son—”

“Let me see—yes, this is the right change,” said David hastily. “You might send me—or I think I'll let Mrs. Dean give her order to the boy to-morrow, as usual.”

He hurried from the store. He did not know why hearing Herwig talk about Lanny annoyed him so. When he was on the street he felt ashamed of having fled without saying a word in defense of Lanny. He turned to go back and did not go. Instead he went the rounds of his creditors, paying bills.

It was after banking hours, but the door of the bank stood open and he went in. He found the banker in his office, for Burton never hurried home, and David went straight to the matter in hand. Lucille's loan had been enough to cover the advance made by the trustees, and David felt he should repay the church the advance. It had been included in the schedule of his debts Lucille had seen. He placed the bank notes on the banker's desk, and explained what they were for. B. G. took them and counted them.

“You know there is no necessity for this, dominie,” he said. “It was understood the money should be deducted from your next salary payment.”

“But, having it, I prefer to pay it now,” said David. “I was able to raise what I needed. A—friend came to my assistance.”

Burton stacked the banknotes, and pushed them back on his desk. It was on the tip of his tongue to say he hoped David had said something to Lucille about an increased subscription, but he thought better of it. That Lucille had loaned David the money he was morally certain, for the bank notes were Riverbank National notes, crisply new and with Burton's signature hardly dry. He had handed them through the window to Lucille himself, remarking to her that she would like some brand-new money, perhaps. He remembered the amount of the check she had presented; no doubt it was the amount of the loan she had made David.

When the dominie left Burton sat in thought. Lucille had not made David a present of the money, he decided, for he could not imagine David accepting any such gift, and it was fairly sure that David would not accept the money as a loan unless he felt sure of repaying it. That meant that he must be sure of an increase in salary, and that in turn meant that Lucille must have promised an increased subscription, doubtless asking that her intention be kept secret for the present. All this was not difficult to imagine, but B. C. was pleased that he was able to follow the clew so well. He decided that it would be safest to let David handle the matter, with an occasional hint to David to keep him working for the subscription. He derided this placidly and with the pleasant feeling that the dominie's refund, added to the cash already on hand, made the church's bank balance more respectable. He liked a good bank balance; the bank paid the church four per cent on its balances and he was always pleased when the item “bank interest” in his report amounted to a decent figure. He walked home feeling well satisfied. As he passed the old Fragg homestead he nodded to David's father-in-law who was coming through the gateway. The old man crossed the street.

“My housekeeper is sick,” he said, as a man who feels the necessity of telling his banker why he is neglecting his business during business hours. “She's pretty bad this time, I'm afraid. I've got Rose Hinch, and the doctor has been here. No hope, I'm afraid.”

“Mary Ann is an old woman,” said the banker philosophically.

“Yes, yes!” agreed Fragg nervously. What he did not say was that if Mary Ann died he would have to find another housekeeper, and that—in Riverbank—would be a hard task. Mary Ann had been with him while his wife was alive, had been with him when 'Thusia was born. She knew his ways, and a new housekeeper would not. “Yes, we must all die!” he said. “I got your notice that my note comes due next week. I suppose it will be all right to renew it again?”

“Quite. Not much coal business in midsummer, I imagine,” said the banker.

“Very little. Well—”

He looked at the house and then down the street, and hurried away. The banker continued his easy, homeward way.

The note worried Fragg more than it worried the banker, because Fragg knew more about his affairs. He had mortgaged the homestead to go into the coal business, because the coal business eats up capital, but this did not worry either the banker or Fragg. What worried Fragg was his last winter's business. Ever since he had gone into the coal business the bank had loaned him, each year, more or less money to stock up his coal yard against the winter trade. Last winter he had lost money; bad accounts had eaten into his reserve, had devoured it and more; he had been obliged to use a good part of the money the bank loaned him in paying for coal already sold and consumed. He owed the bank; he owed the mines; he owed the holder of the mortgage. He wondered how he could get enough coal to supply his trade during the coming winter. When he reached his office on the levee, he saw the little card “Back in five minutes” stuck in the door, just as he had left it when called to Mary Ann's bedside. Roger was practicing ball; he waved his hand to his grandfather and went on playing, and the old man entered the office, to pore over his books again, seeking some way out of his difficulties. Through the window he glanced at Roger; he was very fond of the boy.