"Did it break 'em?" cried Dinah, feeling an interest in the details not shared by the others. "Only two. I gave him six cracks for each--the little limb!" "Wal, 'bout de bank," said Dolf, impatiently. "Yes, dat's what I'm gwine to tell. Mr. Moseby, he said--you know him--dat tall man----" "Laws, we know him well 'nuff," said Vic. "Go on if you're gwine to." Dinah looked reproachfully at her, and Othello continued: "Mr. Moseby--he said de Trader's Bank had blowed all to smash--clean up." A scream from Clorinda brought them all to their feet. "Massy sakes," cried Vic; "what is it?" "Have yer got fits?" demanded Dinah. "Bring de peppermint," suggested Othello. "Miss Clorindy, dear Miss Clorindy, what am it?" cried Dolf, with a sudden sinking at his heart. Clo would have had hysterics, but not being a fine lady, she gave two or three yells, kicked the table, pulled her frizzed hair, and shouted, amid her tears: "You Sally, git my bunnit--quick!" She rose, and they crowded about her. "Whar be you gwine? What's up?" "Git my bunnit!" she repeated. "Ise gwine to York, I is." "To York, this time o' night?" cried Vic. "Yes, I is--let me go." Dolf laid a hand on her arm. "Only 'splain, Clorindy, 'splain!" "Ise gwine to git at dem rascals. I want my money--I'll have it! Marster shall git it. Oh de villin scampsesses! I want my money." Dolf dropped speechless in a chair, while the rest poured out floods of questions, which Clorinda was in no state to answer. "Was yer money in dat bank?" "Ise gwine to York; get my bunnit!" They fairly shook her, the general curiosity was so great. "Why don't yer speak?" said Vic. "Was yer money in de bank?" "Yis; ebery red cent. Oh! oh! Five hundred dollars--and it's a--all g--gone!" she sobbed. "I'll hev it! I'll hev it! Call marster! Git my bunnit. Oh! oh!" They made her sit down, they explained to her that nothing could be done until the next day, and finally she subsided into silent tears. All this while Dolf sat without offering one word of consolation; now he said: "Mebby dar's some mistake, Othello." "No, dar ain't," persisted Othello. "Mr. Moseby's lost ten thousand dollars; he'd orter know. De bank's gone to smash, clar nuff." Clo burst into a new paroxysm of distress, and Dolf, after a brief struggle with his own disappointment, turned on her: "Yer needn't rouse de house wid yer hurlyburly," said he, savagely. "Better 'member Miss Elsie's sick." Clo stared at him in tearless horror; a new fear struck her; was he going to prove false? "Don't talk so," she said; "tink of yesterday, Dolf!" Dolf drew himself up, and looked first at her and then at the company with an air of profound astonishment. "I tink her brain am turned," said he. "'Taint!" roared Clo. "Oh, Dolfy, yer said yer loved me; yer knows yer did; dat yer didn't care for money; dat I was a Wenus in yer eyes--oh--oh!" "Wal, I do declar!" cried Vic. Dolf flew into a great rage.