This was Saturday, and their spring needs had brought an unusual number of farm-folk to town. The proximity of interest-paying day made an acute issue of Sycamore Traction. Amzi had by no means gathered up all the bonds held by small investors. Book learning has not diminished the husbandman's traditional incredulity: if Sycamore traction bonds were worth seventy to Amzi Montgomery, they were undoubtedly worth eighty, at least, to the confiding original purchasers. Those who had clung to their bonds were disposed to ridicule those who had sold; and yet no one was wholly comfortable, either way. The collapse of the furniture company might prelude a local panic, and farmers and country merchants collected in groups along Main Street to discuss the situation. The Saturday half-holiday in the various Montgomery industries added to the crowd that drifted toward the courthouse at two o'clock, drawn by the announcement that Alec Waterman was to discuss many local issues, which the failure of the furniture company had rendered acute. The circuit court-room was packed with farmers, mechanics, and the usual idlers when Waterman without introduction began to speak. At that moment Amzi Montgomery, in his seersucker coat and with his old straw hat tilted to one side, stood at the door of his bank and observed half a dozen men on the steps of the First National. Amzi, a careful student of his fellow-townsmen, was aware that men and women were passing into the rival bank in larger numbers than usual, even for a Saturday, and that the mellifluous oratory of Alec Waterman had not drawn from the First National corner a score of idlers who evidently felt that the center of interest lay there rather than at the court-house. Amzi planted himself in his favorite chair in the bank window and watched the crowd increase. By half-past two the town marshal had taken official notice that citizens were gathering about the bank doors, and overflowing from the sidewalk halfway across Main Street, to the interruption of traffic. Women and girls, with bank-books in their hands or nervously fingering checks, conferred in low tones about the security of their deposits. The Citizens' National and the State Trust Company were also receiving attention from their depositors. As three o'clock approached, the Montgomery Bank filled, and the receiving-teller began to assist the paying-teller in cashing checks. Amzi lounged along the lines outside, talking to his customers. "Going to buy automobiles with your money, boys? Thunder! You in town, Jake?" He greeted them all affably, ignoring their anxiety. "Boys, I'll have to get a new shop if business keeps on like this." A depositor who had drawn his money and was anxiously hiding it in his pocket, dropped a silver dollar that rolled away between the waiting lines.