A letter from Sadie arrived the next day, in which she said that she and Arthur had hoped to join them in Chicago and surprise them, but that conditions were such at the store that Arthur's every available moment was demanded, and he could not possibly get away. But this was not the half of it. The panic of '93, of which premonitory notice had been given by numerous bank failures, was now a stern reality. Collections were bad, business was dead, and the firm of Kendall & Co., which had unfortunately laid in a larger stock of goods than usual that season, found it all they could do to keep themselves from going to the wall.
Checkers and Pert returned and soon fell into their accustomed grooves. They called upon Arthur and Sadie, and found them reasonably happy under new conditions, although Arthur was evidently carrying a load of care and responsibility; while Judge Martin sat up and cheerfully predicted "confusion and every evil work" as a result of the demonetization of silver and other kindred political "outrages."
One morning as Checkers was working about the dooryard, he espied his father-in-law coming up the road at a gait which presaged important news. The old man reached him, out of breath. Checkers waited expectantly.
"Well, what do ye think has happened now?" panted Mr. Barlow. "The First National Bank of Little Rock has gone up—busted; got yer money."
There was in his voice and manner something of the triumph that mean spirits feel at being the first to bring disastrous news, as well as a show of personal injury at the thought of Checkers allowing himself to lose what he himself had even the shadow of an interest in.
"My God!" exclaimed Checkers involuntarily, growing pale at the news. Then for a moment he stood in silence, nervously biting his upper lip. He had had long experience in controlling himself under trying circumstances. "If that's so," he finally answered in a quiet voice, "it 's tough."
This exasperated Mr. Barlow. "Tough," he repeated; "you nincompoop, it's actual ruin; the bank has been robbed by its president—looted—ye 'll never see a cent of it ag'in," and he started toward the house.
"Hold on!" exclaimed Checkers, grabbing him by the arm. "Not a word of this to Pert; it will only excite her, and not do any good."
But the old man shook him off and continued his way. Checkers picked up a handy piece of scantling, and running up the steps, turned and faced his father-in-law.
"Now, see here, old man," he exclaimed, "I 've taken as much of your slack as I 'm going to—see? I tell you you can't come into this house; and I give you fair warning, if you put your foot on one of those steps I 'll smash you over the head;" and he swung his weapon threateningly to his shoulder. "What I 've made or lost is mine, not yours," he continued, "and it don't 'cut any pie' with you—you'll never get a cent of it. My wife is mine, not yours, and I 'll take care of her, what ever happens. But she is n't well, and the doctor said any sudden excitement might kill her. I 'll tell her gradually and quietly, and go down to Little Rock this noon and see if there 's anything can be done. If I 'd let you tell her you 'd break the news with an ax, and I tell you I ain't going to have it; so just 'jar loose,' and 'pull your freight.'"