Jed, do you remember that day when you and I had the
talk about poetry and all that? When you quoted that poem about a
chap's fearing his fate too much? Well, I've been fearing my fate
ever since I began to realize what a mess I was getting into here
in Orham. When I first came I saw, of course, that I was skating
on thin ice, and it was likely to break under me at any time. I
knew perfectly well that some day the Middleford business was bound
to come out and that my accepting the bank offer without telling
Captain Hunniwell or any one was a mighty risky, not to say mean,
business. But Ruth was so very anxious that I should accept and
kept begging me not to tell, at least until they had had a chance
to learn that I was worth something, that I gave in and . . . I
say, Jed," he put in, breaking his own sentence in the middle,
"don't think I'm trying to shove the blame over on to Sis. It's
not that."
Jed nodded. "Sho, sho, Charlie," he said, "course 'tain't. I
understand."
"No, I'll take the blame. I was old enough to have a mind of my
own. Well, as I was saying, I realized it all, but I didn't care
so much. If the smash did come, I figured, it might not come until
I had established myself at the bank, until they might have found
me valuable enough to keep on in spite of it. And I worked mighty
hard to make them like me.
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