Banks and banking -- Fiction; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; New England -- Fiction; Singers -- Fiction
Up to this time the judge had paid no attention to Mr. Grey, but now he
turned to him and said, “I must say, Grey, that girl of yours has a head
on her. Yes, sir, a head on her to think of such a plan, though ’tain’t
original. Such things have been done before, but all the same I’m
obliged to you, I am sure. I guess, though, we could have pulled
through.”
“No we couldn’t,” Herbert exclaimed, chagrined that his father evinced
so little gratitude for Mr. Grey’s help. “I was in it—was behind the
scenes and I know we would have gone to the wall if the other bank
hadn’t helped us, and we ought to be eternally grateful.”
The judge frowned, straightened himself up, threw out his stomach, and
said, “Certainly, of course, we are grateful and glad the thing is over.
I was never so insulted in my life. Yes, sir, we are grateful.”
He bowed rather stiffly to Mr. Grey, on whose face there was an amused
smile as he replied, “You are quite welcome to any service we rendered
you. I am very glad your bank stood the test.”
“Stood! of course it stood,” the judge answered testily, unwilling, in
his small soul, to acknowledge, as he ought, the great favor which had
been shown him, or that his bank, the First National, could possibly
have been in any real danger.
At this moment the White carriage with the black horses drew up before
the door, and Fred suggested that Louie be sent home in that. She was
too dazed to object to anything, and was soon seated, with the judge
beside her, and Fred and Herbert in front of her, and was driven in
state through the village, where knots of men were still congregated at
the corners of the streets, talking the matter over and feeling ashamed
of the part they had had in it.
“Stood like a rock!” they said, referring to the bank; “and it almost
seemed as if the more we took out the more there was to take.” And not
one of them had a suspicion of the truth, so well had it been managed.
As the White carriage passed them a few turned their faces away, while
others nodded hesitatingly, and one, bolder than the rest, called out,
“Hello, Judge, I congratulate you. Yes, I do. The old bank stood fire
well.”
The judge neither looked at the men, nor answered the salutation, but
his face was like a thunder cloud as he muttered to himself, “Go to the
d—— with your congratulations. Nobody wants them.”
Fred Lansing, on the contrary, touched his hat, and his example was
followed by Herbert, who, however, felt more like fighting than being
civil to the men who had made them so much trouble. When Mr. Grey’s gate
was reached both Fred and Herbert accompanied Louie to the house, one on
either side of her, and each with a hand on her arm as if she needed
support.
“I trust your fatigue will not prevent you from coming to-night. You
will be the star of the evening,” Fred said, as they reached the door.
Louie looked at him half bewildered at first; then she replied:
“Oh, no, we have sent our regrets. Didn’t you know it? I shall not be
there.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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