Ovington's Bank

by Stanley John Weyman

He assumed the airs of a rich man, but he was not the worst. The draper, if more honest, had less brains, and success threw him off his balance. “A little country ’ouse,” he said, speaking among his familiars. “I’m thinking of buying a little country ’ouse. Two miles from town. A nice distance.” He recalled the fact that the founder of Sir Charles’s family had been Mayor of Aldersbury in the days of Queen Bess, and had bought the estate with money made in the town. “Who knows,” with humility—“my lad’s a good lad—what may come of it? After all there is nothing like land.”

Grounds shook his head. “I don’t know. It doesn’t double——”

“Double itself in a month, Grounds? No. But all in good time. All in good time. ’Istory repeats itself. My lad may be a parliament-man, yet. I saw Ovington this morning.” Two months before it would have been “Mr. Ovington.” “He’s sold those Anglo-Mexicans for me and it beats all! A gold-mine! Bought at forty, sold at seventy-two! He wanted me to pay off the bank, but not I, Grounds. When you can borrow at seven and double the money in a month! No, no! Truth is, he’s jealous. He gets only seven per cent. and sees me coining! Of course he wants his money. No, no, I said.”

Grounds looked doubtful. He was too cautious to operate on borrowed money. “I don’t know. After all, enough is as good as a feast, Purslow.”

Purslow prodded him playfully. “Ay, but what is enough?” he chuckled. “No. We’ve been let in and I mean to stay in. There’s plenty of fools grubbing along in the old way, but you and me, we are inside now, Grounds, and I mean to stay in. The days of five per cent are gone for you and me. Gone! ’Twarn’t by five per cent. that Ovington got where he is.”

“My wife wants a silk dress.”

“Let ’er ’ave it! And come to me for it! You can afford it!” He strutted off. “Grounds all over!” he muttered. “Close; d—d close! Hasn’t the pluck of a mouse—and a year ago he could buy me twice over!” In fancy he saw his Jack a college-man and counsellor, and by and by he passed various parks and halls before his mental vision and saw Jack seated in them, saw him Sir John Purslow, saw him Member for Aldersbury. He held his head high as he marched across the street to his shop, jingling the silver in his fob. Queen Bess, indeed, what were Queen Bess’s days to these?

But a man cannot talk big without paying for the luxury. The draper’s foreman asked for higher wages; his second hand also. Purslow gave the rise, but, reminded that their pay was in arrear, “No, Jenkins, no,” he said. “You must wait. Hang it, man, do you think I’ve nothing better to do with my money in these days than pay you fellows to the day? ’Ere! ’ere’s a pound on account. Let it run! Let it run! All in good time, man. Fancy my credit’s good enough?”

And instead of meeting the last acceptance that he’d given to his cloth-merchant, he took it up with another bill at two months—a thing he had never done before. “Credit! Credit’s the thing in these days,” he said, winking. “Cash? Excuse me! Out of date, man, with them that knows. Credit’s the ’orse!”

Arthur Bourdillon wore his honors more modestly, and courted the mean with success. But even he felt the intoxication of this noontide prosperity. At Garth he had doubted, and suffered scruples to weigh with him. But no sooner had he returned to the bank than the atmosphere of money enveloped him, and discerning that it was now in his power to make the best of two worlds, hitherto inconsistent, he plunged with gusto into the business. As secretary of the company he was a person to be courted; as a partner, now recognized, in the bank, he was more. He felt himself capable of all, for had not all succeeded with him? And awake to the fact that the times were abnormal—though he did not deduce from this the lesson he should have drawn—he thanked his stars that he was there to profit by them, and to make the most of them.