Vindication

"Well, he said your father had a mortgage on his farm up to the time
you came to work in the bank, then suddenly it was paid and soon after
the house was painted, a new bathroom installed, electric lights put
into the house and steam heat, a Victrola and an automobile bought. In
fact, your people launched out as though they had found a gold mine,
and that in spite of the fact that your crop of tobacco was ruined by
hail and the other income from the farm products barely enough to keep
things going until another harvest. He naturally thought you must have
a hand in supplying the money and with your moderate salary you
couldn't do half of that. He talked with several of the bank directors
and an investigation was ordered. You'll admit his story sounded
plausible. It looked pretty black for you."

"To you, yes! But not to him! Mr. Mertzheimer knows well enough where
that money came from. My father had a legacy of ten thousand dollars
this spring. You people could have found that out with very little
trouble."

"We're a pack of asinine blunderers, Landis!" Mr. Buehlor looked
foolish. Then he sighed relievedly. "That clears matters for you. I'm
glad. I couldn't conceive of you as anything but honest, Landis. But
tell me about that legacy--a pretty nice sum."

"It's a romantic little story. An old sweetheart of my father, one who
must have carried under her prickly exterior a bit of tender romance
and who liked to do things other people never dreamed of doing, left
him ten thousand dollars. She was a queer old body. Had no direct
heirs, so she left Father ten thousand dollars for a little
remembrance! It was that honest money that paid for the conveniences in
our house, the second-hand car Father bought and the Victrola he gave
Mother because we are all crazy for music and had nothing to create any
melody except an old parlor organ that sounded wheezy after nine babies
had played on it."