Homer T. Ward was puzzled. Strange human problems are often presented
to men in his position; but, certainly, this was the strangest;--his old
teacher pleading for his absconding clerk who was supposed to be dead.
At last he said, with gentle kindness: "But, why did you come to tell me
about him, Auntie Sue? He is safe enough if no one knows who he is."
"That is it!" she cried. "Some one found out about him, and is coming
here to tell you, for the reward."
The banker whistled softly. "And you--you--grabbed a train, and beat 'em
to it!" he exclaimed. "Well, if that doesn't--"
Auntie Sue clasped her thin hands to her breast, and her sweet voice
trembled with anxious fear: "You won't send that poor boy to prison,
now, will you, Homer? It--it--would kill me if such a terrible thing
were to happen now. Won't you let him go free, so that he can do his
work,--won't you, Homer? I--I--" The strain of her anxiety was almost
too much for the dear old gentlewoman's physical strength, and as her
voice failed, the tears streamed down the soft cheeks unheeded.
In an instant the bank president was again on his knees beside her
chair.
"Don't, Auntie Sue: don't, dear! Why, you know I would do anything
in the world you asked, even if I wanted to send the fellow up; but I
don't. I wouldn't touch him for the world. It is a thousand times better
to let him go if he is proving himself an honest man.
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