"Some one found out about him, and is coming here to tell you, for the reward." The banker whistled softly.

"And you--you--grabbed a train, and beat 'em to it!" he exclaimed.

"Well, if that doesn't--" Auntie Sue clasped her thin hands to her breast, and her sweet voice trembled with anxious fear: "You won't send that poor boy to prison, now, will you, Homer?
It--it--would kill me if such a terrible thing were to happen now.

Won't you let him go free, so that he can do his work,--won't you, Homer?
I--I--" The strain of her anxiety was almost too much for the dear old gentlewoman's physical strength, and as her voice failed, the tears streamed down the soft cheeks unheeded.
In an instant the bank president was again on his knees beside her chair.
"Don't, Auntie Sue: don't, dear! Why, you know I would do anything in the world you asked, even if I wanted to send the fellow up; but I don't.

I wouldn't touch him for the world.