"from the stub. From what I see of you, Mr. Morton, I predict you success."
He regarded Christy with a glint of favor in his iron-gray face as he added in climax, "You are very much like I was at your age. You are like myself."
Christy was rather silent. When he was left alone he thought of Jim Perry. He often thought of Jim now. His late visitor and his classmate stood side by side before his mind.
"There is wealth and wealth," he mused. "Mr. Richards has one kind, Jim has another. I am not so awfully pleased," he thought resentfully, "with my likeness to Richards. I don't fancy being a cash register. All the man's fortunes are in money."
Christy looked down at the cheque in his hands; he looked at Jim's box.
"I said the real Christmas was forgotten. I said that all the missionary spirit of the present resided in the missionaries and me. I doubt whether Mr. Richards at my age was such a fool. Poor Richards! He is old. I shall have a good part of my life yet, I trust."
He wrote on the back of the cheque and folded it small.
"Richards, and Jim, and Lin, and the others have spoiled my taste a little for happy strokes, however innocently come by. The mission shall enjoy this one."
He pushed the cheque through the slit in the money box, which was getting frayed and worn.
Christy met Mr. Richards on the street soon afterwards.
