"Selina did her share, and I shan't forget it. But it was your show. I
think fifty thousand dollars would be fair."
Tinker's face went very grave. "Thank you very much," he said slowly,
"but I couldn't take any money for helping Dorothy out of a mess. When
I've taken money for helping people, they've been strangers--like the
Kernabies and Blumenruth. But Dorothy is different--quite different."
Septimus Rainer pulled at his beard, and said in a grumbling voice,
"That's all very well, sonny; but where do I come in? You get my little
girl out of a tight place--a very tight place--and you save me three
hundred thousand dollars. Business is business, and I ought to pay."
"It is rather awkward for you," said Tinker, looking at him with a
puzzled face and knitted brow. "But I think the thing is that it wasn't
business. I like Dorothy--I like her very much. She's a friend. And
there can't be any business between friends, don't you know?"
"Shake, sonny," said the millionaire, holding out his hand. "I'm glad
you and she are friends."
Tinker shook his hand gravely.
When they came back to the hotel, at the sight of her father, Dorothy
cried, "Oh, papa, what have you been doing? You look ten years younger.
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