She regarded him curiously for a moment.
"Some men," she said, quietly, "have been known to go to work and make
money for themselves when they needed it."
Conniston told her of his little friend William, of Indian Creek,
adding, carelessly, "I'm glad I don't have to feel like that."
"You mean that you had rather have money given to you than to feel
that you had earned it yourself?"
"Quite naturally, Miss Crawford. My father is William Conniston,
Senior. Maybe you have heard of him?"
He was proud to be his father's son, to have his own name so
intimately connected with that of a man who was not only a millionaire
many times over, but who was a power in Wall Street and known as such
to the four ends of the earth.
"Yes. I have heard of him. He made his own money, didn't he? In the
West, too."
"Yes. A mining expert in the beginning, I believe, and a mine-owner in
the end. Oh, the governor knows how to make the dollars grow, all
right!"
Again she made no answer. But after a little she said: "If you wish to
wire to your father for money"--and there was just the faintest note
of scorn in her voice--"you needn't wait until you get to
Crawfordsville. We have a telephone, and you can telephone your
message from here."
"Good!" cried Hapgood, eagerly. "Better do that--and right away,
Greek. There's no use losing time.
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