visitin' with you, I calculate to have a word to say.... Here, Pansy,
you kin give this here to Ovid." He counted off three thousand dollars
before the young man's staring eyes.

"I--I'm glad I'm found," Ovid said, tremulously. "I was making up my
mind to give myself up...."

"What fer?" said Scattergood.

"You know--you know I took three thousand dollars out of the vault."

"Vault don't show nothin' short," said Scattergood, waggling his head.
"Counted it myself. Did look for a minute like they was three thousand
short, but I kind of put that amount in, and then counted ag'in, and,
sure enough, it was all there...."

Ovid stared, took a step forward. "You mean.... What do you mean, Mr.
Baines?"

"I'm goin' to step outside of what used to be the door," said
Scattergood, "and let Pansy do the explainin'.... What I do after that
depends a heap on ... Pansy...."

Scattergood went outside and waited, his eyes on the stairs, but nobody
offered to ascend. He could hear the conversation within, but it was
only toward the end that it interested him.

"Ovid," said Pansy, "you've been hanging around my counter a good
deal--and asking me to dinners, and to go driving on Sunday. What for?"