“'Tis a run on the bank you've precipitated,” he said reproachfully to Grief.
“Here is the sack to put the coin money in,” Ieremia urged.
“It must be postponed,” Cornelius said desperately, “'Tis not in banking hours.”
Ieremia flourished a package of money. “Nothing of banking hours is written here. It says on demand, and I now demand.”
“Let them come to-morrow, O Tui Tulifau,” Cornelius appealed to the king. “They shall be paid to-morrow.”
Tui Tulifau hesitated, but his spouse glared at him, her brawny arm tensing as the fist doubled into a redoubtable knot, Tui Tulifau tried to look away, but failed. He cleared his throat nervously.
“We will see the system work,” he decreed. “The people have come far.”
“'Tis good money you're asking me to pay out,” Deasy muttered in a low voice to the king.
Sepeli caught what he said, and grunted so savagely as to startle the king, who involuntarily shrank away from her.
“Forget not the pig,” Grief whispered to Ieremia, who immediately stood up.