Galusha made another attempt.

“I—­I told you—­” he faltered.  “I—­I told you—­”

“You told me it had gone to Egypt.  But I was suspicious, old man.  Why, Miss Phipps, isn’t it glorious?  Look at him!”

Martha was looking.  Her face wore a puzzled expression.

“Isn’t it glorious?” repeated Cousin Gussie.

She shrugged.  “I suppose it is,” she said.  “Maybe it would be more so if I knew what it was all about.  And Mr. Bangs doesn’t look as if he found much glory in it.”

“Of course he doesn’t.  Serves him right, the rascal.  You see, Miss Phipps, I am supposed to take care of his money for him, and, while I was away in the mountains, my secretary sent him a check for over fourteen thousand dollars, sent it to him by mistake. I never should have done it, of course.  I know him of old, where money is concerned.  Well, almost immediately after receiving the check, up he comes to our Boston office and—­”

“Cousin Gussie!  I—­I protest!  I—­”

“Up he comes, Miss Phipps, and draws five thousand of the fourteen thousand in cash, in money, and takes it away with him.  Then—­”

“Cousin Gussie!  Mr. Cabot!”

The tone in which Galusha spoke was so different from his usual one, and the fact of his addressing his relative as “Mr. Cabot” so astonishing, that the latter was obliged to stop even in the full tide of his enjoyment of the joke.  He turned, to find Galusha leaning forward, one hand upon the center table, and the other extending a forefinger in his direction.  The finger shook a little, but its owner’s countenance was set like a rock.  And now it was not crimson, but white.

“Mr. Cabot,” said Galusha, “I must insist that you say no more on this matter.  My personal business is—­ah—­presumably my own.  I—­I must insist.  Insist—­ah—­absolutely; yes.”

His cousin looked at him and he returned the look.  Cabot’s hesitation was but momentary.  His astonishment was vast, but he accepted the situation gracefully.  He laughed no more.

“I beg your pardon, Galusha,” he said.  “I’m sorry.  I had no thought of offending you, old man.  I—­well, perhaps I am inclined to joke too freely.  But, really, I didn’t suppose—­I never knew you to be—­”

He paused.  Galusha’s expression did not change; he said nothing.

“I am very sorry,” went on the banker.  “It was only thoughtlessness on my part.  You’ll forgive me, Loosh, I hope.”

Galusha bowed, but he did not smile.  A little of the color came back to his cheeks.

“Ah—­ah—­ Yes, certainly,” he stammered.  “Certainly, quite so.”

He sat down in his chair again, but he did not look in Miss Phipps’ direction.  He seemed to know that she was regarding him with a fixed and startled intentness.

“Five thousand dollars!” she said, in a low tone.  Neither of the men appeared to hear her.  Cabot, too, sat down.  And it was he who, plainly seeking for a subject to relieve the tension, spoke next.