"
The cashier counted the money. "Five thousand, I make it," he said.
"That's what it ought to be. Now will you put that to my account? I
don't know how long it'll stay there--the whole of it not very long, I'm
afraid--but it will be earnin' a little interest while it does stay."
"Yes, sure. Well, Martha, it's none of my business, of course, but, as
long as you say you haven't been counterfeiting, I wish you would give
me your receipt for making money. Anybody that can make five thousand in
one lump these hard times is doing well."
Martha shook her head once more. She and the cashier were old friends.
"No receipt to give, Edgar," she said. "I wish there was; I'd be busy
usin' it, I tell you. I just sold somethin' I owned, that's all, and got
a good deal better price than I ever expected to. In fact, I had about
given up hope of ever gettin' a cent. But there, I mustn't talk so much.
You'll deposit that to my account, won't you, Edgar? And, if you SHOULD
see your way clear to pay seven or eight per cent interest instead of
four, or whatever you do pay, don't bother to write and ask me if I'll
take it, because you'll only be wastin' your time.... Eh? Why, good
gracious, Jethro! What are you doin' over here?"
The captain's big frame blocked the doorway of the cashier's office. He
had opened that door without knocking, because it was his habit to
open doors that way.
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