"Except to repudiate payment," suggested Gresham with a shrug of his
shoulders.

"I wish he would," returned Loring impatiently. "I wish he would let
me handle his affairs in my own way."

"He won't," Polly despaired.

"Tell me, Mr. Loring," interposed Constance, who had been silently
thoughtful all this while; "would this unpaid attachment at Mr.
Gamble's bank interfere with his present success if Mr. Courtney--or
any one else whom Mr. Gamble might try to interest--were to hear of
it?"

"It might--and very seriously," returned Loring.

The long somnolent game was suddenly awakened by two blissful
errors, which gave the audience something to jeer at. A tally
slipped home for Boston. A sharp double play redeemed the errors and
closed the inning. The first man up for the Yankees drove a clean
two-bagger down the right foul line; the second man laid down his
life nobly with a beautiful bunt; the Boston pitcher gave a correct
imitation of Orville Wright and presented free rides to the next two
Highlanders; big Sweeney stalked to bat--and the congregation
prayed, standing. Under cover of all this quivering excitement, and
with Gresham more absorbed than ever upon the foul which might yet
slay him, Constance turned to Polly with an intent decisiveness
which was quite new to her.