"I said the bank at Rossmore failed yesterday, and that none of the depositors will get a cent. If you had your money there it's all gone."
"Gone! Failed! I—I don't understand."
"Well, it's just as I'm telling you. The cashier skipped off with the money."
"With my money?"
"With everybody's money. But I got ahead of them. I heard the bank was shaky and I drew out every cent I had there a couple of days ago. You see, the cashier took the cash about a week back, but he concealed his theft. Then, when the bank officials discovered it, they kept it quiet for a time, hoping to make it up. But, it seems, one of the vice-presidents was in with the cashier, and what the fellow didn't steal the vice-president had used in bad speculations, so the bank's wrecked."
"And my money's gone," repeated Mr. Crosby, in a dazed voice.
"I'm afraid so."
"What's happened? What's the matter, Enos?" asked Mrs. Crosby, who came out on the porch where Mr. Jimson was. She had not heard all he said, but she gathered that there was some trouble.
"We're ruined, Debby!" exclaimed the farmer. "All our money in the bank is gone!"
"Gone?"