FOR THE SAKE OF HOME
"Can this be possible? Has the bank really burst?"
Over and over Jack asked himself the question. Then the words of the crowd echoed and re-echoed through his ears. Yes, the bank had suspended payment. There was no money for him--no money for anyone!
"It's too bad!" he groaned. "What will Deb say?"
The thought of his sister gave him another pang. Without money and without work, how could he continue to take care of her?
"Oh! Jack, me b'y, not wan pinny av me two hundred dollars will they give me at all," exclaimed Andy Mosey, a fellow-workman, bitterly.
"How did it happen?" asked the young machinist.
"No wan knows. Oi guess old Gray is in a toight hole, an' is usin' the bank's money to get him out."
Andy Mosey was a heavy-set Irishman, with a bloated, red face and fiery hair and beard. His work brought him into daily contact with the young machinist, but Jack did not like the man, first on account of his drinking habit, and secondly, because he suspected the Irishman of having stolen from the pocket of his jumper a silver match safe--a highly-valued Willington heirloom.
"It's a bad business, and no mistake."