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assurance that the money you have here is safe. I called you in to impress you with the security of the bank. You ought to know the truth, however, and I will tell you in confidence that another check like Austin’s, which we paid a few minutes ago, would cause us serious, though temporary, embarrassment.”

      “I came to assure you that I have not thought of withdrawing my deposits from this bank, Colonel. You need have no uneasiness—”

      The door opened suddenly and one of the officials of the bank bolted inside, his face as white as death. He started to speak before he saw Brewster, and then closed his lips despairingly.

      “What is it, Mr. Moore?” asked Drew, as calmly as possible. “Don’t mind Mr. Brewster.”

      “Oglethorp wants to draw two hundred and fifty thousand dollars,” said Moore in strained tones.

      “Well, he can have it, can’t he?” asked the Colonel quietly. Moore looked helplessly at the president of the bank, and his silence spoke more plainly than words.

      “Brewster, it looks bad,” said the Colonel, turning abruptly to the young man. “The other banks are afraid of a run and we can’t count on much help from them. Some of them have helped us and others have refused. Now, I not only ask you to refrain from drawing out your deposit, but I want you to help us in this crucial moment.” The Colonel looked twenty years older and his voice shook perceptibly. Brewster’s pity went out to him in a flash.

      “What can I do, Colonel Drew?” he cried. “I’ll not take my money out, but I don’t know how I can be of further assistance to you. Command me, sir.”

      “You can restore absolute confidence, Monty, my dear boy, by increasing your deposits in our bank,” said the Colonel slowly, and as if dreading the fate of the suggestion.

      “You mean, sir, that I can save the bank by drawing my money from other banks and putting it here?” asked Monty, slowly. He was thinking harder and faster than he had ever thought in his life. Could he afford to risk the loss of his entire fortune on the fate of this bank? What would Swearengen Jones say if he deliberately deposited a vast amount of money in a tottering institution like the Bank of Manhattan Island? It would be the maddest folly on his part if the bank went down. There could be no mitigating circumstances in the eyes of either Jones or the world, if he swamped all of his money in this crisis.

      “I beg of you, Monty, help us.” The Colonel’s pride was gone. “It means disgrace if we close our doors even for an hour; it means a stain that only years can remove. You can restore confidence by a dozen strokes of your pen, and you can save us.”

      He was Barbara’s father. The proud old man was before him as a suppliant, no longer the cold man of the world. Back to Brewster’s mind came the thought of his quarrel with Barbara and of her heartlessness. A scratch of the pen, one way or the other, could change the life of Barbara Drew. The two bankers stood by scarcely breathing. From the outside came the shuffle of many feet and the muffled roll of voices. Again the door to the private office opened and a clerk excitedly motioned for Mr. Moore to hurry to the front of the bank. Moore paused irresolutely, his eyes on Brewster’s face. The young man knew the time had come when he must help or deny them.

      Like a flash the situation was made clear to him and his duty was plain. He remembered that the Bank of Manhattan Island held every dollar that Mrs. Gray and Peggy possessed; their meager fortune had been entrusted to the care of Prentiss Drew and his associates, and it was in danger.

      “I will do all I can, Colonel,” said Monty, “but upon one condition.”

      “That is?”

      “Barbara must never know of this.” The Colonel’s gasp of astonishment was cut short as Monty continued. “Promise that she shall never know.”

      “I don’t understand, but if it is your wish I promise.”

      Inside of half an hour’s time several hundred thousand came to the relief of the struggling bank, and the man who had come to watch the run with curious eyes turned out to be its savior. His money won the day for the Bank of Manhattan Island. When the happy president and directors offered to pay him an astonishingly high rate of interest for the use of the money he proudly declined.

      The next day Miss Drew issued invitations for a cotillon. Mr. Montgomery Brewster was not asked to attend.

      CHAPTER XIV

      MRS. DE MILLE ENTERTAINS

      Miss Drew’s cotillon was not graced by the presence of Montgomery Brewster. It is true he received an eleventh-hour invitation and a very cold and difficult little note of apology, but he maintained heroically the air of disdain that had succeeded the first sharp pangs of disappointment. Colonel Drew, in whose good graces Monty had firmly established himself, was not quite guiltless of usurping the role of dictator in the effort to patch up a truce. A few nights before the cotillon, when Barbara told him that Herbert Ailing was to lead, he explosively expressed surprise. “Why not Monty Brewster, Babs?” he demanded.

      “Mr. Brewster is not coming,” she responded, calmly.

      “Going to be out of town?”

      “I’m sure I do not know,” stiffly.

      “What’s this?”

      “He has not been asked, father.” Miss Drew was not in good humor.

      “Not asked?” said the Colonel in amazement. “It’s ridiculous, Babs, send him an invitation at once.”

      “This is my dance, father, and I don’t want to ask Mr. Brewster.”

      The Colonel sank back in his chair and struggled to overcome his anger. He knew that Barbara had inherited his willfulness, and had long since discovered that it was best to treat her with tact.

      “I thought you and he were—” but the Colonel’s supply of tact was exhausted.

      “We were”—in a moment of absent mindedness. “But it’s all over,” said Barbara.

      “Why, child, there wouldn’t have been a cotillon if it hadn’t been for—” but the Colonel remembered his promise to Monty and checked himself just in time. “I—I mean there will not be any party, if Montgomery Brewster is not asked. That is all I care to say on the subject,” and he stamped out of the room.

      Barbara wept copiously after her father had gone, but she realized that his will was law and that Monty must be invited. “I will send an invitation,” she said to herself, “but if Mr. Brewster comes after he has read it, I shall be surprised.”

      Montgomery, however, did not receive the note in the spirit in which it had been sent. He only saw in it a ray of hope that Barbara was relenting and was jubilant at the prospect of a reconciliation. The next Sunday he sought an interview with Miss Drew, but she received him with icy reserve. If he had thought to punish her by staying away, it was evident that she felt equally responsible for a great deal of misery on his part. Both had been more or less unhappy, and both were resentfully obstinate. Brewster felt hurt and insulted, while she felt that he had imposed upon her disgracefully. He was now ready to cry quits and it surprised him to find her obdurate. If he had expected to dictate the terms of peace he was woefully disappointed when she treated his advances with cool contempt.

      “Barbara, you know I care very much for you,” he was pleading, fairly on the road to submission. “I am sure you are not quite indifferent to me. This foolish misunderstanding must really be as disagreeable to you as it is to me.”

      “Indeed,” she replied, lifting her brows disdainfully. “You are assuming a good deal, Mr. Brewster.”

      “I am merely recalling the fact that you once told me you cared. You would not promise anything, I know, but it meant much that you cared. A little difference could not have changed your feeling completely.”

      “When you are ready to treat me with respect I may listen to your petition,” she said, rising haughtily.

      “My petition?” He did not like

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