“I ’speck dey got mo’ banks in Atlanty dan what we-all got down here,” she remarked, the next time I had an opportunity to talk with her. She laughed so heartily as she made the remark that I regarded her with some astonishment. “You may look, suh, but I ain’t crazy. When I hear anybody say ‘bank’ it allers puts me in min’ er de time when me an’ Marse Tumlin frailed out de Gossett boys.” “Frailed out the Gossett boys?” I exclaimed. “Yasser, frailed is de word.” “But what has that to do with a bank?” I inquired. “Hit got all ter do wid it, suh,” she replied. We were in the sitting-room, and Aunt Minervy Ann sank down on a footstool and rested one arm on the lounge. “Right atter freedom dey wa’n’t nothin’ like no bank down whar we live at; you know dat yo’se’f, suh. Folks say dat banks kin run widout money, but ’fo’ you start um, dey got ter have money, er sump’n dat look like money. An’ atter freedom dey wa’n’t no money ’roun’ here ’cep’ dat kin’ what nobody ain’t hankerin’ atter. “But bimeby it ’gun ter dribble in fum some’rs; fus’ dem ar little shinplasters, an’ den de bigger money come ’long. It kep’ on dribblin’ in an’ dribblin’ in twel atter while you could git a dollar here an’ dar by workin’ yo’ han’s off, er spraining’ yo’ gizzard to git it. Bimeby de news got norated ’roun’ dat ol’ Joshaway Gossett gwine ter start a bank. Yasser! ol’ Joshaway Gossett. Dat make folks open der eyes an’ shake der head. I ’member de time, suh, when ol’ Joshaway wuz runnin’ a blacksmith shop out in de country. Den he sot in ter make waggins. Atter dat, he come ter be overseer fer Marse Bolivar Blasengame, but all de time he wuz overseein’ he wuz runnin’ de blacksmith shop an’ de waggin fact’ry. “When de war come on, suh, dey say dat ol’ Joshaway tuck all de money what he been savin’ an’ change it inter gol’; de natchul stuff. An’ he had a pile un it. He kep’ dat up all endurin’ er de turmoil, and by de time freedom come out he had mo’ er de natchul stuff dan what Cyarter had oats. Dat what folks say, suh, an’ when eve’ybody talk one way you may know dey ain’t fur fum de trufe. Anyhow, de word went ’roun’ dat ol’ Joshaway gwine ter start a bank. Folks wa’n’t ’stonished ’kaze he had money, but bekaze he gwine ter start a bank, an’ he not much mo’ dan knowin’ B fum bullfoot. Some snicker, some laugh, an’ some make fun er ol’ Joshaway, but Marse Tumlin say dat ef he know how ter shave a note, he bleeze ter know how ter run a bank. I ain’t never see nobody shave a note, suh, but dat ’zackly what Marse Tumlin say.