There was in his voice and manner something of the triumph that mean spirits feel at being the first to bring disastrous news, as well as a show of personal injury at the thought of Checkers allowing himself to lose what he himself had even the shadow of an interest in. "My God!" exclaimed Checkers involuntarily, growing pale at the news. Then for a moment he stood in silence, nervously biting his upper lip. He had had long experience in controlling himself under trying circumstances. "If that's so," he finally answered in a quiet voice, "it 's tough." This exasperated Mr. Barlow. "Tough," he repeated; "you nincompoop, it's actual ruin; the bank has been robbed by its president--looted--ye 'll never see a cent of it ag'in," and he started toward the house. "Hold on!" exclaimed Checkers, grabbing him by the arm. "Not a word of this to Pert; it will only excite her, and not do any good." But the old man shook him off and continued his way. Checkers picked up a handy piece of scantling, and running up the steps, turned and faced his father-in-law. "Now, see here, old man," he exclaimed, "I 've taken as much of your slack as I 'm going to--see? I tell you you can't come into this house; and I give you fair warning, if you put your foot on one of those steps I 'll smash you over the head;" and he swung his weapon threateningly to his shoulder. "What I 've made or lost is mine, not yours," he continued, "and it don't 'cut any pie' with you--you'll never get a cent of it. My wife is mine, not yours, and I 'll take care of her, what ever happens. But she is n't well, and the doctor said any sudden excitement might kill her. I 'll tell her gradually and quietly, and go down to Little Rock this noon and see if there 's anything can be done. If I 'd let you tell her you 'd break the news with an ax, and I tell you I ain't going to have it; so just 'jar loose,' and 'pull your freight.'" There was something in Checkers' determined look which cowed the old man, but he would n't go without a last word. "Well, ye 'll both o' ye end a couple of paupers and die in the poorhouse if this keeps up," he said, "with your fancy furniture and trips to Chicago. How much did you have in that bank?" Just here Pert appeared in the doorway. Checkers' threatening attitude and her father's question, which she overheard, surprised and startled her. "What is it?" she cried, putting her arm around Checkers and disarming him gently. "Nothing much," he began. "Nothing much," interrupted her father, "except that the Little Rock bank is busted, and all yer money's gone." Checkers reached for his stick, but Pert restrained him. "Never mind, dearest," she said, "it may not be as bad as you think--things never are; and we 've got the house and the farm, and the bonds; and, whatever happens, we 've got each other."