The speaker was Dennis Corrigan, a pattern maker. He was a brother-in-law to Mosey, but much more educated, and somewhat refined in appearance as well.
"Yes, indeed," returned Jack.
"How do they expect us to live if they don't pay us our wages or let us draw our savings either?"
"Old Gray will pay dearly fer this," put in Andy Mosey, with a wicked look in his eye; "oi'll vow he'll be moighty sorry for this day's worruk ere long."
Jack elbowed his way up the bank steps and into the building. The cashier's window was closed, and behind the glass this notice was pasted up:
"Depositors are hereby notified that owing to the unexpected run upon this bank, no further payments will be made until the more available assets are converted into cash."
The crowd were all talking loudly and excitedly, and Jack tried in vain to obtain definite information concerning the cause for the suspension.
At length, sick at heart, he returned to the sidewalk, where Andy Mosey, the worse for several glasses of liquor, again addressed him.
"Not wan pinny av me two hundred dollars, Jack, me b'y!" he repeated in a heavy voice; "an' they call it a free counthry! Sure it's only free fer rich people to rob the poor!"
"It's rough," replied Jack.