An old woman, rich and "crotchety," had been talking business with him for the last fifteen minutes.
"The old dame is as keen as a weasel," thought Christy, as he listened with bowed head, deferentially. "Not many men could fool her on a deal. She is honest herself, and she doesn't mean to be cheated. The most of her time is given to padlocking and double-barring her money chest."
Finally she came to a pause. She pointed across the room.
"You have something new there. What is it?"
"A collection box," answered Christy, accepting his cue, promptly. "A college classmate of mine, a missionary to China, left it. The missionaries are calling for a special offering at Christmas."
The old lady heard him out patiently. When he had finished, she began to speak of further precautions and provisos that had occurred to her as to her affairs. Then she arose stiffly to go.
At the mantelpiece she stopped, took a bill from her full purse and slipped it into the narrow opening of the missionary box. She had given the first contribution to Jim's heathen.
"Of her abundance," quoth Christy, as he shut the door behind her.
Miss Craig, his stenographer, was moving at the other end of the office. She shut up her typewriter; it was the hour for her to leave.
A little time before Christy had felt a sensation in regard to Miss Craig. He did not often do this, which was one of his chief virtues.
