"You'll do it?"

"Yes."

She drew a deep breath, and cried with streaming eyes:

"Oh, Lord, have mercy on my poor soul, that I doubted You, and
thought You had forsaken me!"

Gordon handed her the cheque.

"I'm going to kiss you!" she fairly screamed.

Before he could lift his hand or protest, she threw her arms around
his neck and kissed him.

As he took her hands down from his shoulders and drew his face away
from the mouldy-smelling old shawl, he looked toward the door, and
Ruth stood in the entrance. Her eyes blazed with wrath, but as she
saw the faded and bedraggled dress and moth-eaten shawl and looked
into the tear-stained motherly old face she burst into hysterical
laughter.

Gordon rose and escorted the woman to the door with courtesy.

"You will find the bank at the corner of Sixth Avenue and Twenty-third
Street--the Garfield National. Write me how your son is when you
reach home, and send me the money when you are able."