“Notes and a pound in silver,” gasped Boumphry, who thought the world had gone mad. “And dunno get on my back, man!” to one behind him. “I’m not a bullock! Here, how’m I to count it when I canna get——”
“A form!” cried a second wit. “Neither can we, farmer! Come, out with ’em, gentlemen. Hullo, Mr. Purslow! That you? Ha’ you turned banker?”
The draper, who had showed himself over-confidently, fell back purple with blushes. “Certainly an odd sight,” said the banker quietly. “It promises well, I think, Sir Charles.”
“Hanged well!” said Acherley.
Sir Charles acquiesced. “Er, I think so,” he said. “I certainly think so.” But he felt himself a little out of place.
The minute hand touched the half-hour, and the clerks began to distribute the papers. After watching the scene for a moment the Board separated, its members passing out modestly through the house door. They parted on the pavement, even Sir Charles unbending a little and the saturnine Acherley chuckling to himself as visions of fools and fat premiums floated before him. It was a vision which they all shared in their different ways.
Arthur was about to join the workers in the bank when Ovington beckoned him into the dining-room. “You can be spared for a moment,” he said. “Come in here. I want to speak to you.” He closed the door. “I’ve been considering the matter I discussed with you some time ago, lad, and I think that the time has come when it should be settled. But you’ve said nothing about it and I’ve been wondering if anything was wrong. If so, you had better tell me.”
“Well, sir——”
The banker was shrewd. “Is it the money that is the trouble?”
The moment that Arthur had been dreading was come, and he braced himself to meet it. “I’m afraid that there has been some difficulty,” he said, “but I think now——”