."

"All right; but it's yours at any time. The only way I can use money is
to get rid of it as soon as possible. Make out a check for two-thirds of
the amount and I'll put my strong hand to it. But you haven't
congratulated me."

"No," the Major replied, with a drawl, "for I felt that it would have
too much the appearance of my own greed. I have hounded you--" The old
fellow seized him, and stopped his utterance. "Don't say that, John. You
have kept me out of hell and you ought to complete my heaven with a
congratulation."

They shook hands, looking not into each other's eyes, but downward; the
Major pretended to laugh, and old Gid, dropping his hand, blustered
about the room, whistled and stormed at a dog that poked his head in at
the door. Then he sat down, crossed his legs; but finding this
uncomfortable, sprawled himself into an easier position and began to
moralize upon the life and character of his uncle. "He always called me
a fool with an uproarious fancy, an idiot with wit, and a wise man
lacking in sense. He denied himself everything, and it strikes me that
he must have been the fool. I wish he had gathered spoil enough to make
me rich, but I reckon he did the best he could, and I forgive him. We
must respect the dead, and sometimes the sooner they are dead the sooner
we respect them. Let me sign that thing. Oh, he hasn't left me so much,
but I won't quarrel with him now. What was it the moralist said?" he
asked, pressing a blotting pad upon his name. "Said something about we
must educate or we must perish. That's all right, but I say we must have
money. Without money you may be honest," he went on, handing the check
to the Major, "but your honesty doesn't show to advantage. Money makes a
man appear honorable whether he is or not. It gives him courage, and
nothing is more honorable than courage. The fact that a man pays a debt
doesn't always argue that he's honest--it more often argues that he's
got money. Accident may make a man honest just as it may make him a
thief."

"Your log fire and your old books haven't done you any harm, Gid."

"They have saved my life, John. And let me tell you, that a man who
grows gray without loving some old book is worse than a fool. The
quaint thought of an old thinker is a cordial to aged men who come after
him. I used to regret that I had not been better educated, but now I'm
glad that my learning is not broader--it might give me too many
loves--might make me a book po