“Grace, my dear, were I you I would not repeat such a report,” gravely observed Mrs. Hastings.
Grace shrugged her shoulders. George Godolphin had never been a favourite of hers, and never would be. “It may turn out to be true,” said she.
“Then, my dear, it will be time enough for us to talk of it when it does. You are fortunate, Grace; you had no money there.”
“I’m sure we had,” answered Grace, more bluntly than politely. “We had thirty pounds there. And thirty pounds would be as much of a loss to us as thirty hundred to some.”
“Tom Akeman must be getting on—to keep a banking account!” cried free Reginald.
Grace for a wonder, did not detect the irony: though she knew that Reginald had never liked Mr. Akeman: he had always told Grace she lowered herself by marrying an unknown architect.
“Seven hundred pounds were lodged in the Bank to his account when that chapel-of-ease was begun,” she said, in answer to Reginald’s remark. “He has drawn it all out, for wages and other things, except thirty pounds. And of course, that, if it is lost, will be our loss. Had the Bank stood until next week, there would have been another large sum paid in. Will it go on again, Isaac?”
“You may as well ask questions of a stranger, as ask them of me, Grace,” was her brother Isaac’s answer. “I cannot tell you anything certain.”
“You won’t, you mean,” retorted Grace. “I suppose you clerks may not tell tales out of school. What sum has the Bank gone for, Isaac? That, surely, may be told.”
“Not for any sum,” was Isaac’s answer. “The Bank has not ‘gone’ yet, in that sense. There was a run upon the Bank this morning, and the calls were so great that we had not enough money in the place to satisfy them, and were obliged to cease paying. It is said that the Bank will open again on Monday, when assistance shall have come; that business will be resumed, as usual. Mr. Godolphin himself said so: and he is not one to say a thing unless it has foundation. I know nothing more than that, Grace, whatever you may choose to infer.”