We give him a fright,
or we treat him to a joke. I treated Mr. Frank to a joke.
"Ah!" says I, "I know what he did. He had a signature to write;
and, by the most natural mistake in the world, he wrote another
gentleman's name instead of his own--eh?"
"It was to a bill," says Mr. Frank, looking very crestfallen,
instead of taking the joke. "His principal creditor wouldn't wait
till he could raise the money, or the greater part of it. But he
was resolved, if he sold off everything, to get the amount and
repay--"
"Of course," says I, "drop that. The forgery was discovered.
When?"
"Before even the first attempt was made to negotiate the bill. He
had done the whole thing in the most absurdly and innocently
wrong way. The person whose name he had used was a stanch friend
of his, and a relation of his wife's--a good man as well as a
rich one. He had influence with the chief creditor, and he used
it nobly. He had a real affection for the unfortunate man's wife,
and he proved it generously."
"Come to the point," says I. "What did he do? In a business way,
what did he do?"
"He put the false bill into the fire, drew a bill of his own to
replace it, and then--only then--told my dear girl and her mother
all that had happened. Can you imagine anything nobler?" asks Mr.
Frank.
"Speaking in my professional capacity, I can't imagine anything
greener," says I.
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