"We're a pack of asinine blunderers, Landis!" Mr. Buehlor looked
foolish. Then he sighed relievedly. "That clears matters for you. I'm
glad. I couldn't conceive of you as anything but honest, Landis. But
tell me about that legacy--a pretty nice sum."
"It's a romantic little story. An old sweetheart of my father, one who
must have carried under her prickly exterior a bit of tender romance
and who liked to do things other people never dreamed of doing, left
him ten thousand dollars. She was a queer old body. Had no direct
heirs, so she left Father ten thousand dollars for a little
remembrance! It was that honest money that paid for the conveniences in
our house, the second-hand car Father bought and the Victrola he gave
Mother because we are all crazy for music and had nothing to create any
melody except an old parlor organ that sounded wheezy after nine babies
had played on it."
"Landis, forgive me; we're a set of fools!" The old man extended his
hand and looked humbly into the face of Martin. The two gripped hands,
each feeling emotion too great for words.
After a moment's silence Mr. Buehlor spoke.
"This goes no farther. Your reputation is as safe as mine. If I have
anything to say you'll be eligible for the first vacancy in the line of
advancement. As for that Mertzheimer, he can withdraw his account from
our bank to-day for all we care. We can do business without him. But it
puzzles me--what object did he have? If he knew of the legacy, and he
certainly did, he must have known you were O.K. Is he an enemy of
yours?"
"Not particularly. I never liked his son but we never had any real
tilts."
"You don't happen to want the same girl he wants, or anything like
that?"
"No--well now--why, I don't know!" A sudden revelation came to Martin.
Perhaps Lyman thought he had a rival in him. That would explain much.
"There's a son, as I said, and we know a girl I think he's been crazy
about for years. Perhaps he thinks I'm after her, too."
"I see," chuckled the old man. "Well, if the girl's the right sort she
won't have to toss a penny to decide which one to choose." He noted the
embarrassment of Martin and changed the subject.
But later in the afternoon as Martin walked down the road from the
trolley and drew near the Reist farmhouse the old man's words recurred
to him. Why, he'd known Amanda Reist all his life! He had never dreamed
she could comfort and help a man as she had done that morning in the
woods. Amanda was a fine girl, a great pal, a woman with a heart.