“Of course, you can have it, but it seems to me it is a large sum to draw out without a moment’s warning. Can’t you wait for a part of it till to-morrow? Suppose those fellows behind you should all demand their money at once, what should we do?”
This was like a red flag to a maddened bull. Herbert was the son of the house, and it was undoubtedly his doings that the Gibsons were invited and his daughters slighted. Any regret Sheldon might have had for what he was doing vanished, and he replied:
“Hanged if I care what you do,” while the cashier, who was counting out the bills, kicked Herbert with his foot trying to stop him, as he saw he was making matters worse by showing fear.
The cashier, however, tried what he could do by saying very cheerfully:
“You can have more if you wish, but it would be a convenience if you could wait till to-morrow, when a heavy loan is to be paid.”
He had half the money counted, and paused for a reply, which was, “I shan’t wait an hour. I want my money now!” the words accompanied by a nod to emphasize each word.
“All right,” the cashier answered, going on with his work, while one or two standing behind Mr. Sheldon said:
“What’s that he says? Wants us to wait till to-morrow? Not much! We will have it now.”
The words were caught up by those outside, and ran through the crowd like wildfire, gaining strength as they ran, until by the time they reached the outer circle it was affirmed that the bank could pay no more that day.
Those who have witnessed a run on a bank know how the excitement grows until people, ordinarily cool and sane, grow wild and mad, and howl sometimes like beasts at the prospect of losing their money. And so it was now at the White Bank, where the excitement was intense, especially among the small depositors—the women, whose little was all in the bank. These were furious, and made their way to the door just as Mr. Sheldon came out, with a half sheepish look on his face, as if he had done a mean thing, and was half sorry for it.