In the midst of her prosperity Louie did not lose her head at all, but was the same bright, friendly girl, with a pleasant, familiar word for every one. She was too familiar, Herbert thought, trying to repress her. But here he failed. It did not hurt her, she told him, to talk with Nancy Sharp and people like her, and she should do it for all of him! In this respect she was like her father, who never forgot to be polite to every one, and his good-morning to Nancy Sharp was just as cordial as to Judge White. But gradually a change had come over Mr. Grey; a feeling of depression which he could not shake off, and which was more perceptible at home than when mixing with people outside. There was nothing much the matter, he said to his wife and Louie when questioned as to what ailed him. He had some indigestion and was tired of business and wanted to get away from it awhile, that was all. “There is nothing the matter with the business, is there? No trouble, I mean?” Louie asked. “Trouble!” he repeated quickly, with a sharp glance at her. “Of course not. What trouble can there be? I am having deposits all the time; not large ones, but every little helps.” Louie had learned a good deal of the workings of a bank since the White run, and she continued: “And these deposits are loaned on good securities? They are safe?” “Safe! Of course they are safe! Did you think they were not?” her father replied. “Oh, no,” she said. “I only wanted to be sure, and if these securities should fail you still have enough to pay the depositors if they should run on you as they did on Judge White?” What ailed the girl? She was certainly a little disagreeable in her questioning, and for almost the first time in his life her father answered crossly, “Pay! Of course I could! What are you worrying about? I can manage the bank.” After that he tried to seem more natural and cheerful, but it was at last a dismal failure. His headaches were more frequent. He could not sleep; he ate scarcely anything, and would sometimes sit for an hour without speaking, with his eyes closed, as if thinking intently. His trips to New York were more frequent. He was consulting a physician for nervous dyspepsia, he said, but he usually returned worse than when he went. To his wife’s and Louie’s inquiries he would answer lightly that he would be all right with a change of air. Narragansett Pier and sea baths would bring him up at once, and days came and went, and in the social atmosphere of Merivale there was no sign of the impending storm which would make the great run seem like a bubble.