How he had begun by telling Mr.Guthrie of his own and Mr.MacFarlane's opinion of the property, as he did not want to sell anything he himself considered worthless.

How he had told him frankly what Peter had said of his--Mr.
Guthrie's--fairness and honesty; how he was at work for his prospective father-in-law, the distinguished engineer of whom Mr.Guthrie had no doubt heard--at which the gentleman nodded.

How this property had been given him by his father, and was all he had in the world except what he could earn; how he already owed ten thousand dollars and had pledged the property as part payment, and how, in view of these facts, he would take any sum over ten thousand dollars that Mr.Guthrie would give him, provided Mr.Guthrie thought it was worth that much.
"But I am buying, not selling, your land, young man," the banker had said.

"I know it, sir, and I am willing to take your own figures," Jack replied--at which Mr.Guthrie had laughed in a kindly way, and had then called in Mr.Ballantree and another man how the three had then talked in a corner, and how he had heard Mr.Guthrie say, "No, that is not fair--add another five thousand and increase the interest to one-fifth"; whereupon the two men went out and came back later with a letter in duplicate, one of which Mr.Guthrie had signed, and the other which he, Jack, signed--and here was Mr., Guthrie's letter to prove it.

With this Jack took out the document and laid it before Peter's delighted eyes; adding that the deeds and Isaac's release were to be signed in the morning, and that Mr.Guthrie had sent a special message by him to the effect that he very much wished Mr.Grayson would also be present when the final transfers would be signed and the money paid.
Whereupon the Scribe again maintains--and he is rubbing his hands with the joy of it all as he does it--that there was more sunshine than clouds in this particular Unexpected, and that if all the boys in the world were as frank and sincere as young Jack Breen, and all the grown-ups as honest as old Robert Guthrie, the REAL banker, the jails would be empty and the millennium knocking at our doors.
Peter had drunk in every word of the story, bowing his head, fanning out his fingers, or interrupting with his customary "Well, well!" whenever some particular detail seemed to tend toward the final success.
And then, the story over, there came the part that Peter never forgot; that he has told me a dozen times, and always with the same trembling tear under the eyelids, and the same quivering of his lower lip.
Jack had drawn his chair nearer the old gentleman, and had thrown one arm over the shoulder of his dearest friend in the world.