“His view,” the banker continued, polishing his glasses with his handkerchief and looking thoughtfully at them, “is that if there came a check in trade and a fall in values, the bank might find its resources strained—I’ll put it that way.” Arthur sneered. “Singular wisdom! But a fall—a general fall at any rate—what sign is there of it?” He was provoked by the banker’s way of taking it. Ovington seemed to be attaching absurd weight to Rodd’s suggestion. “None!” contemptuously. “Not a jot.” “There’s been a universal rise,” Rodd muttered. “In a moment? Without warning?” “No, but——” “But fiddlesticks!” Arthur retorted. Of late it seemed as if his good humor had deserted him, and this was not the first sign he had given of an uncertain temper. Still, the phase was so new that two of those present looked curiously at him, and his consciousness of this added to his irritation. “Rodd’s no better than an old woman,” he continued. “Five per cent. and a mortgage in a strong box is about his measure. If you are going to listen to every croaker who is frightened by a shadow, you may as well close the bank, sir, and put the money out on Rodd’s terms!” “Still Rodd means us well,” the banker said thoughtfully, “and a little caution is never out of place in a bank. What I want to get from him is—has he anything definite to tell us? Wolley? Have you heard anything about Wolley, Rodd?” “No, sir.” “Then what is it? What is it, man?” But Rodd, brought to bay, only looked more stubborn. “It’s no more than I’ve told you, sir,” he muttered, “it’s just a feeling. Things must come down some day.” “Oh, damn!” Arthur exclaimed, out of patience, and thinking that the banker was making altogether too much of it—and of Rodd. “If he were a weather-glass——” “Or a woman!” interjected Betty, who was observing all with bright inscrutable eyes. “But as he isn’t either,” Arthur continued impatiently, “I fail to see why you make so much of it! Of course, things will come down some day, but if he thinks that with your experience you are blind to anything he is likely to see, he’s no better than a fool! Because my uncle, for reasons which you understand, sir, has drawn out four hundred pounds, he thinks every customer is going to leave us, and Ovington’s must put up the shutters! The truth is, he knows nothing about it, and if he wishes to damage the bank he is going the right way to do it!” “Would you like my opinion, father?” Betty asked. “No,” sharply, “certainly not, child. Where’s Clement?” “Well, I’m afraid he’s away.” “Again? Then he is behaving very badly!” “That was the opinion I was going to give,” the girl answered. “That some were behaving better than others.” “If,” Arthur cried, “you mean me——” “There, enough,” said her father. “Be silent, Betty. You’ve no business to be here.” “Still, people should behave themselves,” she replied, her eyes sparkling.