"Yes," said I, "but they won't lend me any money!"
Mr. Peck's face seemed suddenly to harden, and, putting his fingers on the desk, he said:
"Mr. Black, we are simply wasting time. What do you think a bank's for? A bank isn't a mere safe deposit for money! It's a bank's business to lend money! Better go and see your bank now. I'll be back in two hours!"
Without another word he turned and left the store.
At that I completely lost my temper.
"I'll be damned if I will!" I cried to Larsen, who was standing by. "Those people can wait for their money, and you can just bet that I'm through doing business with them! They're not the only jobbers in the world. Dirty, low-down trick, I call it!"
I was much surprised when Larsen replied:
"You paid all other fellers, yes? You not pay him. You get mad with your debtors when they don't pay you? Doesn't the same sauce suit all birds?" (Larsen got his maxim a bit twisted, but I knew what he meant, all right.) "If I might suggest, I would go down to bank and talk with them. You won't be worse off, perhaps better."
The more I saw of Larsen the more respect I had for his judgment, and I believed I had done quite right when at the beginning of the month I had frankly talked over my position with him. We had planned to talk over a scheme of profit-sharing with the help, but there had been so many things happening that we had had to defer it for a time.
Well, I went and had a talk with Blickens, the president of the bank. He shook hands very cordially with me, but, when I told him what my errand was, the jovial manner seemed to fall away from him, and he became reserved and grave. Mighty suspicious, I thought.