"Resign! no, George, that must not be done. You can preserve your own honor, and if the new teller is not honest his character will soon be known. Your duty is to remain and not throw away your opportunity, because your employers have chosen to hire a man in whom you have no confidence." "Fannie, I cannot work with a rascal, and I believe Sargent to be one. Would an honest man make such a statement against another as he made against Senator Hamblin, and then follow it by another, swearing the first was false? I should constantly feel that such a man would do something dishonorable, and perhaps get me into trouble. I cannot drive the impression from my mind, that if Sargent ever comes into the bank as teller there will be some complication." "Take care of your own work, and you can keep yourself free from trouble," she replied. George Alden could not drive these thoughts from his mind, for he looked upon Sargent as his evil genius, and was unable to conceal the fact that he had no confidence in the man. Several times on returning from dinner he found the teller engaged in looking over his books, and once asked what he was doing, but Sargent only replied: "I am posting myself thoroughly on the whole system of banking." Two weeks before Senator Hamblin was to take his seat in the Senate Chamber at Albany, a disaster occurred in Cleverdale, which we will relate in the next chapter. CHAPTER XIX. THE BURNING FACTORY. It was a cold day in December, with everything in business and manufacturing circles of Cleverdale full of activity; the large mill of the Cleverdale Woollen Company running on full time. Senator Hamblin was at the bank conversing with the cashier upon business matters, when the ominous clang of the fire-bell startled him. The conversation ceased, and both men, quickly stepping to the window, looked into the street. All was bustle and confusion, the noise of the steam-engines, as they passed, adding to the excitement. Opening the door, Senator Hamblin asked a fireman where the fire was. "At the Cleverdale Woollen Mill," he replied, and hastily passed on. "The Cleverdale Woollen Mill!" exclaimed the Senator, "and there is but a small insurance on it, for most of the polices expired yesterday, and have not been renewed. Ruin!" Re-entering the bank, his blanched face and agitated manner attracted the attention of cashier and teller. "It's our mill!" he gasped. "If the flames cannot be stayed we shall lose heavily." Then, putting on overcoat and hat, he said: "George, come with me, and you, Sargent, remain in charge of the bank."