into his voice.

"I'm--I'm ashamed of myself, mother,--I give you my word I am. I came here
intending to ask you point-blank to advance me the money. Then the idea
came into my head to work the bluff about old Mr. Thorpe. That grew into
Percy's prospective thrashing. I'm sorry. It's the first time I've ever
tried to put anything over on you."

"Fill in the check, please," she said coldly. "I've just been drawing a
few for the dressmakers--a few that Anne has just remembered. I shan't in
the least mind adding one for Percy. He isn't a dressmaker but if I were
asked to select a suitable occupation for him I don't know of one he'd be
better qualified to pursue. Fill it in, please."

Her son looked at her admiringly. "By Jove, mother, you are a wonder. You
never miss fire. I'd give a thousand dollars, if I had it, to see old Mrs.
Wintermill's face if that remark could be repeated to her."

A faint smile played about his mother's lips. After all, there was honest
tribute in the speech of this son of hers.

"It would be worse than a bloody nose for Percy," said Anne, slipping an
arm around her mother's waist. "But I don't like what you said about _me_
and the dressmakers. I must have gowns. It isn't quite the same as
George's I.O.U. to Percy, you know."

"Don't be selfish, Anne," cried George, jerking a chair up to the
escritoire and scrambling among the papers for a pen. "You won't have to
worry long. You'll soon be so rich that the dressmakers won't dare to send
you a bill."

"Wait a moment, George," said Mrs. Tresslyn abruptly. "If you do not
promise to refrain from saying disagreeable things to Anne, I shall
withdraw my offer to help you out of this scrape."

George faced her. "Does that mean that I am to put my O.K. upon this
wedding of Anne's?" His look of good-nature disappeared.

"It means that you are not to comment upon it, that's all," said his
mother. "You have said quite enough. There is nothing more that you can
add to an already sufficiently distasteful argument."

George swallowed hard as he bent over the checkbook. "All right, mother,
I'll try to keep my trap closed from now on. But I don't want you to think
that I'm taking this thing pleasantly. I'll say for the last time,--I
hope,--that it's a darned crime, and we'll let it go at that."

"Very well. We will let it go at that."

"Great Scot!" burst from his lips as he whirled in the fragile chair to
face the women of the house. "I just can't he