protestingly—"no, do not thank me—it is little enough." He sat down again, drew the Patriarch's blank book toward him, and, on the line beneath the one where the Patriarch had ended his essay with the words, "such is the power of faith," wrote his name and set down the amount of his contribution after it.
"Ten thousand dollars!"—it was Mrs. Thornton speaking, as she took the check from Helena. She turned quickly to her husband. "Robert, have you your check-book here?"
Thornton shook his head.
"No, dear," he said. "I'm afraid I haven't."
"Well, it doesn't matter," said Mrs. Thornton brightly. "You can use one of Mr. Madison's checks and write the name of your own bank on it—you've often done that, you know."
"A suggestion," said Madison to himself, "for which I thank you, Mrs. Thornton—it sounds so much less crude coming from you than from me." But aloud he said courteously. "Take my pen, Mr. Thornton."
"Thank you," said Thornton, as Madison placed it in his hand.
Mrs. Thornton and her husband had their heads together now, and were whispering—Thornton with his eyes on Helena, who sat with lowered head, twirling Madison's check in her hands. Then Thornton drew the check-book toward him, scratched out the printed name of the bank that it bore, wrote in another, and went on filling out the check.
