Herbert, who was downtown on an errand for his mother, had stepped into the bank to speak to the cashier, with whom he was talking for some time, unconscious of what was taking place outside. Hearing the sound of many voices, followed at last by a vigorous shaking of the heavy doors, which had not yet been opened to the public, he looked from the window and, seeing the crowd, exclaimed to the cashier: “Harry, Harry, what is all this? and why are there so many people in front of the bank acting as if they meant to get in?” One glance at the crowd, and it flashed upon the cashier like a presentiment that here was a run. He had been in one before, when the bank, which if left to its ordinary business, was safe, went down under the overwhelming tide, and his voice shook as he said: “It looks like a run!” “A run!” Herbert repeated. “Not on father’s bank, sure. It must be on Grey’s.” “No, it is this one,” the cashier replied. “They are all looking at our windows, and don’t you hear the pounds on the door; and see, there are more coming—a lot of women, headed by old Nancy Sharp, with her arms akimbo and her hair down her back. It is a regular run, and no mistake!” “Well, let them run. There’s money enough to pay all their demands, isn’t there?” Herbert asked. The cashier shook his head doubtfully. “If we had on hand all we have loaned out we could stand it. But no bank has that. The loans are greater, of course, than the amount kept for emergencies, and if all the depositors spring upon us, as most are likely to do if one does, we may be swamped for a time. There’s Sheldon gave notice last night that he must have his five thousand to-day. If he would wait till to-morrow, when a heavy loan we have out will be paid, we shall be all right. But he won’t; he is a kind of a dog in the manger, and something has gone wrong. He’ll draw his money, and others will follow. Men are like sheep, and women are worse. There is Sheldon now talking to some men and pointing this way.” The pounding on the door was loud by this time, mingled with calls: “Let us in! It’s time! It’s after nine. You have no business to keep us out, and we mean to come in.” “Shall we keep them out till father comes?” Herbert asked, his teeth chattering with the cold chill which had come over him and increased with the sounds outside. It was a kind of roar now, as the cries, “Open the door!” became louder—cries of more women than men, as the former were more excited. “Say, shall we keep them out till father comes?” Herbert asked again. “By no means,” the cashier replied. “That would confess our fear. Possibly we can persuade Sheldon to leave a part of his till to-morrow. Open the door, Charlie,” and he turned to the office boy, whose eyes were like saucers as he shot back the bolts and threw open the doors so suddenly that two or three of the foremost ones, pushed by those behind, fell headlong across the threshold.