Page:The Toll of the Bush.pdf/115

the sheets had been intentionally sealed against him, and at the same moment his eye fell on his father’s name, ‘There was a sum of over £300 to the debit of the account, and not one penny to the credit. Beneath was the note:—

‘I wish with all my heart that Mrs. Hernshaw had let me do more to help her. As good and noble a woman as ever lived.’

The red line crossed the page with more than its usual emphasis.

Stung as he was in his pride by the discovery of this unexpected obligation, Geoffrey yet felt the moisture gather in his eyes at the tribute to the mother he scarcely remembered.

The sound of an approaching footstep caused him to close the volume, and Sandy came in booted and spurred from his customary bi-weekly visit to the branch store on the coast.

‘Did you ever look through this?’ Geoffrey asked, indicating the account book.

Sandy opened his eyes and whistled. ‘No,’ he said ; ‘that’s tapu.’^[1]

‘Some day,’ Geoffrey said, ‘and may it be far distant, you will read it, my boy; and take my word for it now, who have read many books, that you will never twice read anything quite so noble and so foolish as your father’s private ledger. And if it be possible to pay a man’s nature a higher compliment than that, then I confess I don’t know how.’