“Stop him!” shouted Mr. Peaney.  “Don’t let him go in there.”

But Scattergood proceeded methodically, leaving no less than three of Mr. Peaney’s employees in recumbent postures along his line of march....  Pansy followed him closely, pale, but resolute.  He ascended the stairs, and, finding the door at the top fastened from within, he removed it bodily by the application of a calk-studded boot....  Ovid Nixon was disclosed cowering against the wall, pale, terrified.

“Howdy, Ovid?” said Scattergood, as if he had met the young man casually on the street.  “How d’you find yourself?”

Ovid remained mute.

“Fetched a friend to see you, Ovid,” said Scattergood.  “This is her.”  He pushed Pansy forward.  “Find her better comp’ny than you been havin’ recent,” he said.  “She’s got suthin’ fer you....  When she gits through 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?”

“Because—­because I liked you awful well, Pansy, but now—­now that I’ve done this—­”

“If you hadn’t done this?  If you had made money instead of losing it?”

“I—­oh, what’s the use of talking about it?  I wanted you should marry me, Pansy.”

“But you don’t want me any more?”

“Nobody’d marry me—­knowing what you know.”

“Ovid,” said Pansy, sharply, “there’s nothing wrong with you except that—­you haven’t enough brains all by yourself.  You need to be looked after ...and I’m going to do it.”

“Looked after?”

“Ovid Nixon, do you like me well enough to marry me?”

“I—­”

“Do you?  Yes or no ... quick!”

“Yes.”

“Then ask me,” said Pansy.

Presently the three emerged into the street from the deserted offices of Mr. Peaney.  Scattergood Baines held in his hands two thousand dollars in bills, representing net profit on the transaction.  He regarded the money with a frown.