Bertie was induced to abandon a life of adventure on the footboard of his bed, by the suggestion that Miss Lady had something to tell him in the dining-room. He came tearing through the hall shouting, “Extras,” at the top of his voice. “Bertie, darling! Please don't,” cried Miss Lady roused from her apathy. “Remember it's Saturday and Father's home.” “I wish he wasn't,” said Bertie. “I hate a tiptoe house! When can I call extras?” “When we get up to Thornwood. You and I will play all over the hills, and I'll teach you to be a real country boy.” “And can Chick be there, too?” “Yes, and perhaps by that time Chick will have been to the hospital and can talk like other boys.” Bertie was standing on the back of her chair by this time, apparently trying to strangle her. “And can we slide down the ice-house like you used to do? And will Uncle Jimpson call up the doodle-bugs out of the ground like he did when you was a little girl?” “Listen!” cried Miss Lady suddenly starting up. “What is that?” From the far end of the street came the sound, “Wuxtry! Here's your Wuxtry! All about--” “It's just the newsboy I was being like,” said Bertie. “What's the matter? What makes you shake so, Miss Lady?” Myrtella thrust her head in the door. “Here comes that there Mrs. Ivy running 'cross the yard. She's good fer a hour.” But Mrs. Ivy did not seem to be good for anything by the time Miss Lady reached her. She was half reclining on a haircloth sofa in the front hall with a bottle of smelling salts to her nose and a newspaper in her hand. “Oh, my _dear_!” she managed to gasp. “Such a frightful shock! So utterly unexpected!” “Do you mean Don?” Miss Lady's lips scarcely moved as she asked the question. “No, the bank! I was all alone in the house when I heard the boys calling the extras--Ah! my poor weak heart!” “Brandy?” suggested Miss Lady anxiously. Mrs. Ivy raised feeble but protesting eyes: “Never! The Angel of Death shall never find me with the odor of liquor on my lips. Could you send for some nitroglycerin?” By the time Mrs. Ivy was revived, Connie and Hattie had joined the group in the hall, and the latter was reading aloud in awe-struck tones the account of the People's Bank failure. The age and reputation of the institution and the prominence of Basil Sequin as a local financier gave the subject grave significance.