“That sounds like an interesting investment, Vona,” was the cashier's dry comment. “Mr. Britt seems to be swinging that watering pot of his new generosity around in pretty reckless fashion. I wonder what he'll do next!” “Frank, I'm afraid!” She spoke in a whisper, staring hard at him. “No, no! Not what you think! I am not afraid because he is buying my father. If Mr. Britt thinks I can be included in that bargain he is wiser in making his money than he is in spending it. But there's something dreadful at work against us!” She had her hand on the page of an open ledger. “The books can be straightened,” he insisted. “I can do it. I'll do it, if I have to call in every depositor's pass book.” He pointed to the vault. He was keeping the doors open till his work was done. “As long as the money is there, every cent of it, the final checking will show for itself. And the money will be there! I'm answering for that much! I propose to stay with it till that Barnes shows up.” “I remember now that you told me he would come by the stage to-day.” “So Britt gave me to understand, when I reported that he didn't come on the night train.” “But I looked out of the window a little while ago--there was no passenger with Jones.” “Has the stage come?” He glanced at the clock and blinked at the girl. “Well, I guess those books had me hypnotized!” “Small wonder,” she said, bitterly. “I tell you I'm afraid, Frank! There's something we don't see through!” “I don't dare to waste any more time wondering what the trouble is, Vona. I must get on to the job.” “Both of us must.” “It's time for you to be going home.” “I'm going to stay here.” “But, dear girl, there's the play! You have the leading part!” “The words will stick in my throat and tears will blind me when I think of you working here alone. Frank, I insist! I will not leave you. They must postpone the play.” He went to her and laid her hands, one upon the other, between his caressing palms. “The folks will be there--they are expecting the play--you must not disappoint them. It's as much your duty to go to the hall as it is mine to stay here with the books. And another thing! Think of the stories that will be set going, with the bank examiner here, if it's given out that the play had to be postponed because you couldn't leave the books. Such a report might start a run on the bank. Folks would be sure to think there's trouble here. You must go, Vona. It's for the sake of both of us.” He went and brought her coat and hat. “I can't go through with the play,” she wailed. “We've got to use all the grit that's in us--whatever it is we're up against. Come! Hold out your arms!” He assisted her with the coat. He drew her toward the door with his arm about her. “We'll make a good long day of it to-morrow--a holiday. George Washington never told a lie. Perhaps those books will come to themselves in the morning and realize what day it is and will stop lying! Now be brave!”