teps quickened.
She skipped along quite cheerfully. She turned westward as she reached
the corner of the Square, and walked along that business street with
shining eyes. In front of the First National Bank she paused, but
after a few seconds she passed by. On the opposite corner was another
bank. When she reached it, she walked in without pausing, and the
massive door swung behind her. Standing on tiptoe, she confronted the
cashier with a grave face.

"Is Mr. Harold in?" she asked politely.

Mr. Harold was the president of the bank! It was a little unusual.

"Yes, he is in," said the cashier doubtfully, "but he is very busy."

"Will you tell him that Constance Starr wishes to speak to him,
privately, and that it is very important?"

The cashier smiled. "The Methodist minister's little girl, isn't it?
Yes, I will tell him."

Mr. Harold looked up impatiently at the interruption.

"It's the Methodist minister's little daughter, and she says it is
important for her to speak to you privately."

"Oh! Probably a message from her father. Bring her in."

Mr. Harold was one of the trustees of the Methodist church, and
prominent among them. His keen eyes were intent upon Connie as she
walked in, but she did not falter.

"How do you do, Mr. Harold?" she said, and shook hands with him in the
good old Methodist way.

His eyes twinkled, but he spoke briskly. "Did your father send you on
an errand?"

"No, father is out of town. I came on business,--personal business,
Mr. Harold. It is my own affair."

"Oh, I see," and he smiled at the earnest little face. "Well, what can
I do for you, Miss Constance?"

"I want to borrow five dollars from the bank, Mr. Harold?"

"You--did Prudence send you?"

"Oh, no, it is my own affair as I told you. I came on my own account.
I thought of stopping at the other bank as I passed, but then I
remembered that parsonage people must always do business with their own
members if possible. And of course, I would rather come to you than to
a perfect stranger."

"Thank you,--thank you very much. Five dollars you say you want?"

"I suppose I had better tell you all about it. You see, I need a
winter coat, very badly. Oh, very badly, indeed! The girls were
ashamed of me last Sunday, I looked so cold outside, though I was
dressed plenty warm enough inside. I've been looking forward to a new
coat, Mr. Harold. I've never had one yet. There was always something
to cut down