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 . 
 Irish Humor. 
 
 Charming Irish humor Is well por- 
 trayed in "MR. WILDBRIDGE OF 
 THE BANK," by Lynn Doyle [Stakes], 
 who knows the brogue and the coun- 
 try. Mr. Doyle has used a pretty col- 
 leen to cause dismay In the town and 
 to stir it up to depths unknown. There 
 are smiles, funny memories, laughs, 
 and the blacksmith Dennis O'Flaher- 
 ty is the ringleader of prosperity. 
 
 The little sleepy town of Portna- 
 muck is typical of the conditions 
 which are today arousing all of Ire- 
 land to active thought that means 
 deeds. The bank manager with his 
 translations of Horace; his cultivation 
 of the blacksmith, and his winning of 
 the pretty girl and saving of her father 
 will make a dull evening too short for 
 the whole story.
 
 MR. WILDRJDGE OF 
 THE BANK
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE 
 OF THE BANK 
 
 BY 
 
 LYNN DOYLE 
 
 AUTHOR OF "BALLYGUIXION" 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY 
 PUBLISHERS
 
 Copyright, 1916, by 
 FREDERICK A. STOKES COM PANT 
 
 All rights reserved
 
 TO 
 
 THREE LITTLE BOYS 
 
 HARRY, NEIL, AND 
 
 ALAN 
 
 2061620
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF 
 THE BANK 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE evening sederunt at Big Michael Branne^ 
 gan's Family Hotel was in full swing. More 
 than half of the usual cronies were assembled, 
 and well into the middle of their first drinks. The 
 guests in the hotel had been duly invited to join the 
 party and had just sampled the " little drop of some- 
 thing " which, according to Michael's hospitable cus- 
 tom, was always " stood " them at the expense of the 
 house. It was an axiom with Michael that if you once 
 got a man started to drink he would generally go on 
 himself. 
 
 On this occasion the only two guests had availed 
 themselves of the landlord's invitation, a middle-aged, 
 prosperous-looking English commercial traveler, and 
 a small dark man, who on account of certain peculiari- 
 ties of dress and speech and an extremely sallow com- 
 plexion had promptly been noted down as a dirty for- 
 eigner. 
 
 The commercial man was quite at home, and had 
 possession of the house. 
 
 " I agree with every word that has been uttered, 
 gentlemen," he said, " every word, especially with the 
 remarks of my friend Mr. Finnegan." He had hopes 
 of a good order from Mr. Finnegan in the morning.
 
 2 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 " But what I want to know is : Why isn't something 
 being done? You ain't getting forarder, it seems to 
 me. When I came here on my first journey eight years 
 ago I heard the same old story. The town of Port- 
 namuck wasn't getting on. Dead standstill. Summer 
 visitors just about the same rather fewer than they 
 used to be no sign of improvement. Well, here we 
 are ; eight years gone ; no more visitors than there used 
 to be. Eight years ago I booked an order from my 
 friend Mr. Finnegan, among other things, of three 
 dozen colored parasols. Last year it was only two 
 dozen and a half. And I venture to say it will bother 
 me to repeat the order to-morrow morning." 
 
 " I wouldn't say that, Mr. Dickenson," answered Mr. 
 Finnegan. " You have a way with you, sir, you have 
 a way with you ; but it is a matter of satisfaction, and, 
 if I may so express myself, congratulation, that the 
 business of D. Finnegan and Co. continues to maintain 
 itself at a considerable level of prosperity. I think, sir, 
 owing to improved methods of business, and the stead- 
 ily enhancing reputation of my emporium, I shall be 
 successful in disposing of as many summer parasols 
 as ever. 
 
 " But that, sir, is because I am yearly continuing to 
 secure a larger share of the business of this town. The 
 volume, the volume of business, if I may so put it, is 
 not an increasing quantity. The actual number of our 
 summer visitors is, I agree with you, in the descending 
 scale." 
 
 "Very well, sir," replied the commercial gentleman, 
 " what I want to know is, what's the reason of it ? " 
 
 " No summers," said a tall, melancholy-faced man, 
 seated close to the fire. " What'd bring people to the 
 seaside this last eight years? Rain, rain, all the time. 
 There wasn't three days' sunshine in succession all last 
 season. And here we're in the end of May again, and 
 shivering over a fire. It's a most cursed climate, this,
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 3 
 
 a most cursed climate. I don't know what people would 
 
 buy sunshades for in the country if it wasn't for show. 
 j " 
 
 "Ach, sure they're useful for coortin' behind, Mr. 
 McCarrison," said a big, grimy man, sitting at a table 
 with a tankard of stout before him. " If you'd only buy 
 a parasol for yourself this summer a good, bright 
 red one, that would put a bit of color in your face 
 when the sun shone through it an' get a tight slip 
 av a girl in behind it, you'd mebbe not take such a mel- 
 ancholy view of things. We're doin' rightly. There's 
 more drivin' an' coachin' by half than there was eight 
 years ago. I shoed more horses last July than iver I 
 used to do all summer." 
 
 " That's what's wrong, that's what's wrong," said 
 Mr. Sharpe, a little stout man, who had so far sat with- 
 out speaking, but taking in the whole room with his 
 restless small eyes, and emitting a rapid succession of 
 distinct puffs of smoke, very much in the way in which 
 he spoke his words. " Too much driving. Curse of 
 the place. Ten miles to a railway. Ridiculous. 
 Who'll drive ten miles nowadays? Nobody, nobody, 
 nobody. Fewer people coming every year. Less busi- 
 ness. Less money. Fm doing less. Finnegan's do- 
 ing less. Improved methods of business. Bosh. No 
 good. I've not improved. No need. Same old style. 
 Courtesy and promptness. If I haven't what you want, 
 get you it. Doing less all the same. Railway here, 
 and I'll do more. More every year." 
 
 " Very well," said the commercial man, " why don't 
 you have a railway? If this was an English town we'd 
 have a railway here within twelve months. You've got 
 one within ten miles as it is. Why don't you approach 
 the Company to make an extension? " 
 
 " I don't think you have had any dealings with the 
 Ulidia Railway Company," said the melancholy-looking 
 man. " If you had you wouldn't be quite so sanguine.
 
 4 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 In my opinion they're the most rotton, stick-in-the-mud 
 concern in the Three Kingdoms." 
 
 " Show them that it's worth their while to come. 
 Invite down the directors. Take them round the dis- 
 trict. Why, you've got the prettiest bit of coast here 
 in all Ireland or England either. Blackpool's not 
 half as taking, if it wasn't for the amusements. Show 
 them the figures of two or three leading English wa- 
 tering-places. Let them see it's worth their while to 
 run in here, and they'll come; you see if they don't. 
 What you people in this country want is enterprise. 
 No go in you. Content with the old rut." 
 
 " What we want in this country," said the melan- 
 choly-faced man, " is cash. No railway would run 
 here without a guarantee of a certain return on the 
 capital expended. And where would you get a guar- 
 antee in this poverty-stricken hole? There's not half 
 a dozen people in the place can do more than make ends 
 meet, and they take good care to hold on to anything 
 they've got." 
 
 " Ye needn't be lookin' so bitther at me, Mr. McCar- 
 rison," said the blacksmith, " for the divil a very much 
 is to be made out of horseshoes." 
 
 " Well, as far as I am concerned," said Mr. Finne- 
 gan, " though I have perhaps amassed a decent compe- 
 tence, if I may so describe the result of a lifetime of 
 unremitting industry and enlightened business methods, 
 I could not feel it consistent with my duty to a numer- 
 ous family to offer more than a very modest contribu- 
 tion to a project, the success of which I speak un- 
 der correction is attended with a great deal of un- 
 certainty, dependent as it would be on the receipts of a 
 short summer season, and that in a climate which, as my 
 friend Mr. McCarrison has so ably and intelligently 
 pointed out, is subject to so many fluctuations. 
 
 "If the project of a woolen manufactory, which I 
 have long advocated, and which in a sheep-rearing dis-
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 5 
 
 trict like ours has every prospect of complete, and, I 
 venture to say, brilliant success, had been taken up by 
 the inhabitants of the town and the surrounding neigh- 
 borhood, it would have formed a valuable adjunct to our 
 resources, and furnished an, if I may put it so strongly, 
 irresistible argument to the promoters of the long- 
 desired extension of the Ulidia railway into our 
 midst." 
 
 " Hear, hear," said the blacksmith loudly. " Isn't it 
 a pity, mister," addressing the commercial traveler, 
 " for a man with a gift of the gab like that to be wasted 
 on the dhrapery thrade. An' by the time he has the 
 second glass down he can speak as long again. If he 
 was only as free with his pocket as he is with his tongue 
 we'd have woolen manufactories dotted all round the 
 district." 
 
 " He has you there, Finnegan," chuckled the little 
 stout man. " Too much talk. All talk. Talked two 
 meetings out yourself. No talk with me. My money 
 talks. Offered to take up five hundred pounds' worth of 
 shares myself. No more. My share. Do it to-mor- 
 row if the scheme goes on." 
 
 " It's a capital notion," said the commercial man ; 
 "gad, capital. You have a fine sheep district, gentle- 
 men, to provide the raw material, and any amount of 
 water-power. I don't know a better situation for a 
 woolen manufactory in the British Isles. If we had the 
 same facilities in the North of England, we'd be paying 
 twenty per cent, the first year. A little capital and the 
 thing's done. Why, I'd take shares myself. You say 
 you've had some meetings already. What's the matter 
 with getting a company formed? " 
 
 " I'll tell you what's the matter," said the landlord, 
 puffing slowly and meditatively at his pipe. It was 
 Michael's nightly practice to remain passive in his great 
 leather arm-chair, leaning forward on the arms like a 
 large and very fat Sphynx, slowly ruminating on the
 
 6 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 various opinions advanced ; and then to deliver himself 
 heavily to the confusion of the speakers. 
 
 " I'll tell you what's the matter, Mr. Dickenson," said 
 Michael. " The people of Portnamuck is fit for noth- 
 ing else but talkin'. An* talkin', as far as I have ever 
 seen, is very little good in this world." 
 
 " It makes people dhry, Michael," said the black- 
 smith, " an' that's still so much gained." 
 
 " If ye were to listen to the people of this town talk- 
 ing," went on Michael without heeding the interruption, 
 " ye would think it was the wisest place in the world. 
 There has been men some of them is in this room 
 talking these ten years about the railway, wiser than 
 them that is directors of the Company. The manufac- 
 turing of wool has been discussed and explained in this 
 town and neighborhood till the very sheep, if they had 
 hands instead of hooves, could weave woolen cloth them- 
 selves. But has anything been done?" said Michael, 
 leaning forward stertorously and tapping his pipe on 
 the bar of the grate. " D n all ! " 
 
 He looked round in gloomy challenge. But no one 
 had the temerity to expose himself. 
 
 The influence of Michael in his native town had some- 
 thing of the mysterious in it. Whether it sprang from 
 the elephantine bulk of his person and his ponderous 
 delivery, or from his known long-headedness, or and 
 this was likeliest from the fact that no such whisky 
 as Michael kept was to be had elsewhere in the town, 
 among the ranks of his clientele it was supreme and 
 unquestioned. No shadow of dispute ever clouded the 
 serenity of Michael's bar-parlor. A singular freedom 
 of expression characterized the debates that took place 
 there nightly. Taunts and personal criticisms that 
 rankled even into the second generation were endured 
 with at least outward calm. Within the precincts of 
 Michael's parliament no one dared take offense. A few 
 fiery spirits in the early days had attempted to question
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 7 
 
 his title to autocracy, and fled murmuring after chas- 
 tisement. But a week or two in outer darkness and in- 
 ferior whisky had brought them to their senses, and 
 thereafter Michael's sway reigned undisputed. 
 
 And so on the present occasion his glance around 
 sprang merely from a desire to heighten on his palate 
 the sweet taste of authority, not from any fear of re- 
 volt. 
 
 " D n all," continued Michael. " And d n all 
 
 ever will be done by the parcel of blethers and sluggards 
 that dream in their time in this locality. Some day a 
 man of pluck and enterprise'll come among us, an' 
 things'll begin to move. We'll have a railway then, an' 
 a manufactory ; but it'll do no good to anybody in this 
 town. They'll be sittin' in their back parlors scandal- 
 izing their neighbors, an' pickin' holes in them that's 
 trying to do something for the public good, while 
 strangers an' outsiders is making money they should be 
 makin'." 
 
 The uneasy pause that had fallen on the assembly was 
 broken by the irrepressible Mr. Dickenson. 
 
 " Surely there must be somebody in the district, Mr. 
 Brannegan," said he, " to lead the way in public enter- 
 prise. What about the local landholders, for in- 
 stance ? " 
 
 " There's only one landholder in these parts," said 
 Michael, " an' anybody that follows his lead'll find him- 
 self in the Bankruptcy Court. An' he'll have to start 
 after him pretty sharp if he wants to catch up with him 
 before the doors of the same place close behind his 
 heels." 
 
 "You're forgetting old Mr. Normanby, Michael," 
 said Mr. Finnegan, " as open-handed and public-spir- 
 ited a man as our country boasts of in all its length and 
 breadth ; and, if I may say so, a gentleman of the first 
 water." 
 
 " Oh, a gentleman, right enough," said Michael.
 
 8 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 .. 
 
 But I thought we were talking of landholders. An* 
 poor ould Mr. Normanby's acres is easy counted. If 
 he'd had less public spirit I'm thinkin' he'd have more 
 land. An honorable, simple-hearted old fellow that has 
 let the people of this neighborhood put their fingers 
 that far into his eyes that he hasn't enough money left 
 to buy himself spectacles." 
 
 " An old fool," broke in the little fat man abruptly. 
 " Decent, well-meaning old fool ; but a fool all the same. 
 And you know it, Michael; nobody better. Public 
 spirit. Public nonsense. Public waste of money. 
 Fruit-growing climate like this sea-coast. Nobody 
 but a fool would start such a notion. Broke half the 
 country. Iodine out of sea-weed. Bosh. Bosh. 
 Bosh ! Mere waste of money. Not as much iodine in 
 all the sea-weed on this coast as would paint a chilblain. 
 Plenty working at it already, anyhow. Start a sensible 
 commercial undertaking, and I'm willing to support it. 
 Five hundred paid-up pound shares any time you like. 
 But I'll not start it. Business to mind. And no cas- 
 tles in the air; no wild-cat nonsense. Decent old gen- 
 tleman, Mr. Normanby, but d d old idiot all the 
 
 same. Here, Michael, get me a ten-glass bottle of 
 whisky. Got a cold. Going home to bed." 
 
 The commercial man, scenting some entertaining gos- 
 sip, with difficulty restrained his curiosity during the 
 lengthy process of extricating Michael from his chair, 
 and burst into inquiry as soon as the door had closed. 
 
 But he was embarrassed with the tide of anecdote that 
 poured in on him. The blacksmith, Finnegan, McCar- 
 rison the melancholy seedsman, and half a dozen others 
 broke into reminiscence, of which the commercial man, 
 wanting the key of local knowledge, could make out 
 little except that it was uniformly good-natured. The 
 very name Mr. Normanby seemed to diffuse a spirit of 
 human kindness. Amid the haze of words the commer- 
 cial man was able to discern dimly the picture of a ven-
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 9 
 
 erable old clergyman of gentle birth, sanguine, impul- 
 sive, simple-minded, full of generous enthusiasms. 
 Hints there were of undertakings begun for the public 
 profit, and ending in his own personal loss, of decayed 
 fortunes apparent but not acknowledged, and infelici- 
 tous attempts to mend them. But on all sides nothing 
 but kindliness and good-will towards the old man, and 
 free recognition of a genuine desire to benefit the com- 
 munity, frustrated by narrowed and narrowing means. 
 " It's another of the misfortunes of this miserable 
 hole," summed up the seedsman, " that in the only quar- 
 ter there is a bit of decency and public spirit about it 
 there should be poverty as well."
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 PARTLY with a view to secure detailed informa- 
 tion and partly from diplomacy the traveler left 
 the bar-parlor early with Mr. Finnegan. But 
 he found Mr. Finnegan principally inclined to talk 
 about himself, and even more oratorical and deprecating 
 than before. 
 
 " You will doubtless have observed, Mr. Dickenson," 
 remarked the draper, " among the more respectable 
 members of what I may, I think, call the upper middle 
 class, assembled in our worthy friend Mr. Brannegan's 
 parlor, a certain disposition towards wordiness and, if 
 if I may so call it, circumlocution. There is a great 
 deal of conversation and, between ourselves, very little 
 accomplishment. A great many of our very good 
 friends are all unanimous in agreeing together that 
 something should be done for the town ; but no one 
 seems to think it necessary, or, as I would put it, vital, 
 to do something himself. 
 
 " Now I, Mr. Dickenson," said Finnegan, smiting 
 himself lightly on the chest with the tips of his fingers, 
 " am a man of action. I was very instrumental, I think 
 I might say, in calling together the first meeting in sup- 
 port of our projected woolen manufactory, and, as a 
 matter of fact, unworthy though I may be, I presided in 
 the chair. Well, sir, I addressed the people of this town 
 at length for over fifty minutes my wife says fifty- 
 five I pointed out the necessity for making an effort 
 on their own behalf, for doing something, for taking ac- 
 tion ; and do you know, sir, I might as well have left it 
 alone. At the next meeting the result was very much 
 
 the same. I spoke again, though, not being in the 
 
 10
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 11 
 
 chair, for a shorter time. I showed them how impor- 
 tant it was that every man should put his hand in his 
 pocket and support the undertaking. Would you be- 
 lieve it, sir, I was assailed with sarcasm, and even what 
 I might venture to call contumely, because I showed my- 
 self disinclined to subscribe for any considerable num- 
 ber of shares myself. 
 
 *' Now you will, I have no doubt, understand, Mr. 
 Dickenson, that in a business like mine, requiring as it 
 does a great deal of capital, especially at the opening of 
 what I may call by a figure of speech our harvest season, 
 the summer-time, it is all-important But here we are. 
 Won't you come in, Mr. Dickenson. I should be able 
 to give you a little supper, if my wife, Mrs. Finnegan, 
 isn't gone to bed yet; though perhaps you may prefer 
 the more appetizing delicacies of Mr. Brannegan's cui- 
 sine " 
 
 The commercial man was very glad to avail himself 
 of the excuse offered him, and said a hasty good night. 
 
 A few yards up the street he met the blacksmith mak- 
 ing his way home in a mellow and good-humored state 
 that quite precluded any chance of his getting past. 
 
 " Come down the street a bit with me, Mr. What- 
 d'ye-call-ye. Only don't walk too close to me ; for I've 
 sometimes a bit of a roll in my walk when I'm on my 
 road home from Michael's of a night, and I have a very 
 heavy foot on corns. I seen ye talking to ould Finne- 
 gan there or listenin' to him, I suppose. He's a 
 man wouldn't let a body get in a word edgeways. A 
 d d ould pompous ould blether. Him an' his meth- 
 ods of business. He'd deave you about his business. 
 You'd think he was a millionaire, an' him with a tup- 
 penny-ha'penny dhraper's shop. 
 
 " The fact of the matter is," said the blacksmith, 
 coming to anchor against the parapet of a bridge that 
 spanned the little river running through the town, " the 
 people here is good for talkin', an' for mighty little else.
 
 12 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 An* that ould yellow-faced undhertaker of a man that 
 ye've just parted with is the top-card of the lot as far 
 as pure tongue-waggin' an' doin' nothin' goes." 
 
 " There's not much chance then, I take it, of either 
 the railway or the mill," said Mr. Dickenson. 
 
 '* Short of some big fellow takin' it up an' puttin' a 
 lot of money into it," said the blacksmith, " there'll be 
 nothin' of a new venture ever do any good in Portna- 
 muck. The people here are as jealous of each other as 
 girls at a boardin'-school. They wouldn't venture a 
 penny on an undhertakin' of any kind that had a risk in 
 it. It's not that they're mean, mind ye, for they're 
 hearty enough, them that hasn't too much the well- 
 to-do ones is heart-greedy but everybody hates the 
 thought of the neighbors gettin' the laugh on him if he 
 lost his money, an' so nobody'll face at all. But if some 
 man with a bit of capital come forward, an' the thing 
 looked like bein' a success, they'd be tumblin' over one 
 another to get in. For if one man of themselves put in 
 a bit of capital, an' made a good bit, the rest av them 
 would blow their brains out with fair vexation." 
 
 " Well, what about our friend Mr. Normanby, that 
 they were all talking about," said Mr. Dickenson. 
 " Didn't he give you all a lead more than once? " 
 
 " The divil a word have I to say again ould Mr. Nor- 
 manby," said the blacksmith, " for there's not many 
 like him walkin' about ; but there's two bad points about 
 him for a job like this. In the first place he hasn't got 
 the money, an' in the second he's that soft-hearted an' 
 honorable an' easy gulled that he would ruin any un- 
 dhertakin' he ever meddled with. When he started the 
 fruit-growin' notion half the counthry-side went to him 
 complainin' that they hadn't money to buy trees, and 
 when he had near broke himself backin' all the lazy ruffi- 
 ans in the Bank, the rest of the people wouldn't join in 
 because the other fellows was gettin' an advantage over 
 them. An' as for the trees that was planted, I believe
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 13 
 
 they must ha' been planted upside down, or else the cli- 
 mate here was badly again them, for sorrow the apple, 
 pear, damson, or plum ever shaped on- them. The peo- 
 ple lost confidence in Mr. Normanby afther that, an' 
 ripped the whole trees out of the ground, an' sowed 
 corn." 
 
 " But, my dear sir, they surely couldn't blame Mr. 
 Normanby for the failure of the fruit," said the com- 
 mercial man. 
 
 " Well, for one thing they blamed him for bein' the 
 cause of a whole lot of fairy thorns bein' cut down, an' 
 bringin' bad luck on the fruit trees." 
 
 " Why, you don't mean to say that anybody believes 
 in fairies nowadays," cried the traveler. 
 
 " I wouldn't altogether like to say," answered the 
 blacksmith, looking behind him cautiously. " But that 
 was the report in the counthry, anyway." 
 
 " Well, listen to me for a minute, my friend," said the 
 traveler ; " I've listened to you pretty patiently, you 
 know. When I heard you folk talking to-night in Mr. 
 Brannegan's bar-parlor, talking good common sense 
 about developing the tourist trade of this district, and 
 running in a railway, and starting a woolen-mill, I 
 thought I'd been misjudging you all these eight years, 
 and that maybe you weren't the blithering, easygoing, 
 do-nothing folk I'd been taking you for. But it seems 
 to me my first impression was correct. It wasn't your 
 silly blarneying altogether, for we talk a bit in England 
 too; nor every man's jealousy of his neighbor's doing 
 well we're not all brothers across the Channel either 
 but, damme, when it comes to letting fairies inter- 
 fere with your business, I think it's about the limit. I 
 had a notion of putting a bit of brass into your woolen- 
 mill if it ever was started, for there should be something 
 to be made out of a well-managed concern of the kind ; 
 but when it comes to mixing up fairies in it, well, I say 
 good-by. Good gad ! " said the commercial man, strid-
 
 14 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 ing off in disgust, " fairies fairies in the twentieth 
 centur y ! " 
 
 The blacksmith pushed himself off the wall and 
 lurched slowly down the street, talking to himself. 
 
 " These Englishmen," said he, " is a queer kind of 
 people. They believe in nothin' but themselves. Aye. 
 Well, it's a way of thinkin' that gets men along in the 
 world ; but it leaves them mighty poor company." 
 
 When the commercial man entered the coffee-room of 
 the hotel on his return he found it empty save for old 
 Terry, the combined waiter and boots of the establish- 
 ment. The old man was holding a tray on which lay 
 a receipted bill, and some silver and copper. 
 
 " Hallo, Terry," said the traveler in astonishment, 
 " who's leaving at this hour of the night ? " 
 
 " Nobody at ahl, your honor," answered Terry, who 
 hailed from farther south. " It's only that unfortu- 
 nate wee divil av a Jew man " 
 
 " I don't think he is a Jew, Terry," said Dickenson. 
 " He's like a Frenchman, or maybe a Spaniard." 
 
 " Well, he's some kind av a foreigner, anyway," said 
 Terry, " an' moighty little I thought av him at that. 
 A spyin', nosin', inquisitive crather. Wanted the 
 breed, seed, an' genealogy av iverybody in the town an' 
 counthry ; who they were, an' what they did for a livin', 
 an' had they friends abroad, an' the names av thim, and 
 whin they lift the counthry. Ye never heard such a 
 cross-examination in your born days. He nearly 
 deaved me about an uncle av the boss's that sailed for 
 Australia, an' niver was heard av again, an' a brother 
 av ould Mr. Normanby's that went to Amerikay a gen- 
 eration ago, an' was supposed to be killed there. 
 
 " But I'm tellin' ye, sir, he didn't get a dale out av 
 me ; for I'm thinkin' the divil a very much I'm likely to 
 get out av him. A hungry wee snipe, that's goin' off in 
 the mornin' without his breakfast. Nivir takes break- 
 fast, he says. An' troth, I don't wondher at it ; for he
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 15 
 
 ate as much for his supper as would do the fat woman at 
 a show. Savin' a meal, I suppose. An' so it should. 
 Nothin' short av a boa-constrictor would need another 
 bite for twenty-four hours. Here he is, now. Watch 
 him, Mr. Dickenson, what he'll give me. I took a shil- 
 lin' av the change in coppers ; for if it had been all in 
 silver the divil a fluke would I get off him. Molly at the 
 bar was for me thryin' him with two sixpences; but I 
 daren't risk it. Coppers is the only chance, an' bedam- 
 but I'm not too sure av thim even." 
 
 Terry's prognostications turned out only too cor- 
 rect. The little foreigner gathered up his bill, and the 
 uttermost penny of his change, lifted a rather shiny hat 
 in courteous good-night to the commercial man, and 
 mounted the stairs unabashed, pursued by the earnest 
 prayers of Mr. Terence Flanagan. 
 
 " Well, may the divil scorch him till his backbone is 
 no juicier than a red-herrin's," said Terry fervently. 
 " Him an' his hat-liftin', an' his politeness. Manners is 
 chape or there'd be little av thim with the little weasel. 
 There he is away up the stairs with as much provisions 
 in him this night for a shillin' as would take a camel 
 across the desert av Sahara, an' he hadn't the common 
 dacency to give the waiter tuppence." 
 
 " He's a mean little dog, Terry," agreed the traveler 
 heartily, " and deserves to be kicked out of the coun- 
 try." " 
 
 But if Mr. Dickenson had only known there had 
 passed before his eyes the fairy who was to bring pros- 
 perity to the town of Portnamuck !
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 MR. DENIS O'FLAHERTY, the blacksmith, 
 was leaning against the door of his forge one 
 morning about three months later, enjoying 
 a chat with Phil Moran, Mr. Brannegan's ostler, when 
 the cashier of the Downshire Bank passed up the street 
 on his way to business. 
 
 " I say, Mr. O'Flaherty," called the cashier, " I'm 
 bringin' that fox-terrier pup down to you this after- 
 noon to have its tail cropped." 
 
 " Right you are, Mr. Jackson," answered the black- 
 smith ; " it's time it was done long ago. When'll ye be 
 down?" 
 
 " About a quarter to four," called back the cashier. 
 " Sorry I can't stop for a crack. I'm late this morn- 
 ing." 
 
 " Faith, an' he is late, sure enough," said the black- 
 smith, consulting a large silver watch. " It's fourteen 
 minutes to ten now." 
 
 " A great job these Bank fellows has, goin' in at ten 
 o'clock and out at four," said Phil Moran. " A gentle- 
 man's life of it. It's not gettin' up five o'clock in the 
 mornin', to clean horses, an' workin' till dark night like 
 some of us, an' very little for it." 
 
 " Maybe they don't get so much themselves," said the 
 blacksmith. 
 
 " Aw them fellows gets good pay, I hear," said Mo- 
 ran. 
 
 " Not so much as ye'd think," said the blacksmith. 
 " Any respectable job like that, that gives people a 
 chance of lookin' down on their fellow-creatures, is nivir 
 
 16
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 17 
 
 too well paid. All of what ye call the professions is the 
 same. Clergymen now is greatly looked up to ; but sure 
 they're most of them as poor as crows. It's not so bad 
 with our own clergy, for they have nobody to keep but 
 themselves; but if it wasn't that Providence ginerally 
 sets their affections in a quarther where there's money, 
 I don't know how half of the Protestant clergy could 
 rear a family at all. Then when you get to the Army 
 it's worse still. Them officer fellows, for all they still 
 look as neat as if they were turned out of a bandbox, 
 barely gets as much out of the Government as would pay. 
 for polish for their boots. Ye can't expect to have the 
 right to be as upsettin' as an Army officer an' get good 
 pay as well." 
 
 " The doctors and the lawyers makes well by it," said 
 Moran. 
 
 " Not so bad maybe as the others," agreed the black- 
 smith. " But a doctor earns all he gets, with his every 
 night's sleep at the mercy of any old woman that thinks 
 she has a pain in her guts. An' as for the lawyers, 
 whatever they may make in this world sure they pay for 
 it in the next. As far as I can see, a man with a shop or 
 a decent trade is better off in his way than most of these 
 men that looks down on the whole human race because 
 they're in what's called a profession." 
 
 " An' is Banking a profession now? " asked Moran. 
 
 " It depends on who you ask," answered the black- 
 smith. " If ye asked an Army officer he'd turn his nose 
 up at the very notion. But a Bank Manager would say 
 it was; an' his wife would take her Bible oath on it. 
 There's big Mrs. Berryman of the North-Eastern Bank 
 round the corner, an' she wouldn't take tay with a shop- 
 keeper's wife short of forcible feedin'." 
 
 " Well, you can't say the Bank men is upsettin' them- 
 selves. There's Mr. Berryman is as civil as a man could 
 be; an' I hear the new man at the Downshire Bank is 
 very pleasant an' civil spoken."
 
 18 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 "He has to be," said the blacksmith. "It's his 
 business. I have to be civil to the farmers. But if 
 horses had only two feet instead of four, I'd only have 
 to be half as civil. What's young Jackson bringin' 
 down that pup this afternoon for? Because I have the 
 name of havin' a bit of money, an' have no Bank ac- 
 count. He thinks it plazes me to be cuttin' the tail off a 
 Bank man's dog. That's part of his pay, that notion 
 he has got. An' ould Berryman was here yesterday for 
 me to put a new axle in the wheelbarrow. I seen him 
 cuttin' the ould one out of it the day before with a cowld 
 chisel, an' he swore to me when he come down it was 
 rusted through. If he'd known I have a hundred an' 
 fifty pounds in gold lyin' in the house he'd have it out of 
 me if he had to put as many works in the wheelbarrow as 
 there are in a watch. They're teetotal terrors for busi- 
 ness in that North-Eastern Bank. An' anything they 
 have they hould on to like a bulldog. My Aunt Susan 
 put twenty pound in with them once through ould Ber- 
 ryman sendin' down the cashier to buy a briar pipe in 
 the wee shop, an' they near pulled the clothes off her be- 
 fore they'd let her out with it again the day she went 
 for it. 
 
 " An' as for insurance I declare to ye ould Berryman 
 had me near asthray in the head lately about insurin' 
 the house an' forge. I thought I had him choked off a 
 week ago tellin' him I'd insured with the new man in the 
 opposition Bank ; but it only made him worse than iver, 
 him doubtin' I'd taken my account where I'd taken my 
 Fire Insurance. 'Twas that brought him here about 
 the wheelbarrow." 
 
 " Well, for a man that has the head on him you're 
 supposed to have," said Moran, " it doesn't look the 
 wisest thing in the world to have a hundred and fifty 
 pound lyin' in the house an' it not insured even." 
 
 " I've been thinkin' the same thing myself this good 
 while," said the blacksmith, " an' if I live till the morrow
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 19 
 
 I'm goih' up to the Downshire Bank to give the new man 
 a lift. He's a brave, pleasant-spoken man himself for 
 one thing, an' I like young Jackson for another." 
 
 " Troth, he's a jolly fellow, Jackson," said Moran, 
 " even if, as ye say, it's all for business." 
 
 " I don't think that it all is," said the blacksmith. 
 " There's a kind of natural dacency in him too. An' 
 he's fond of a dog, an' a bit of sport, an' has a great 
 leanin' to the girls, an' ye niver seen a man with the 
 same notions hadn't good points about him. If the 
 dogs an' the weemin takes to a man there's seldom much 
 the matter with him." 
 
 " I see Miss Nora sparkin' about him lately," said 
 Moran. " He'll have his hands full there." 
 
 " He will," said the blacksmith heartily, " he will. 
 She'll lead him a dance. She's a divil, an' has been since 
 she could walk. D'ye mind the day she tied the bundle 
 of crackers to the black mare's tail an' you dhrivin' out 
 the ould Canon that's dead an' buried to a funeral." 
 
 " Troth do I," answered Moran. " The track of the 
 ould mare's off hind hoof is in my shinbone yet, for all I 
 was on the dickey. I thought she'd ha' kicked the stars 
 out of the sky. But Miss Nora's a deal quieted down 
 since then." 
 
 " Divil a very much," said the blacksmith. " She has 
 to make more of a show of behavin' herself now she's a 
 kind of half grown up, but she'd stop at very little even 
 yet. 'Twas from the mother, they say, she got the 
 tearaway style of her; an' I believe it; for there's not 
 much of the divil in ould Normanby." 
 
 " There's a good deal of the dacency of the ould man 
 in her, well," said Moran. " I mind the distress of her 
 when she saw the state of the ould mare's hind legs the 
 very time ye were talkin' about. To the day ould 
 Whiteface went to the kennel she niver passed the Rec- 
 tory but Miss Nora came out with a lump of sugar for 
 her, an' would stop me to give it to her if I was drivin'
 
 20 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 the Lord Lieutenant himself. If Mr. Jackson gets Miss 
 Nora he'll be doin' a big day's work. An' sure it would 
 do ye good to look at her. She's as limber as an ash 
 sapling. I was just lookin' at her this mornin' go in' up 
 the street, with the yellow curls flutterin' about her face, 
 an' a sparkle in her eye would light a candle." 
 
 " I'll tell ye what it is, Phil," said the blacksmith, 
 " it's time ye were away to your horses. I wish Mrs. 
 Biddy Moran heard ye, that's all. A man that has 
 three red-headed childer as like their mother as two peas 
 runnin' about the sthreets of Portnamuck has betther 
 not be thinkin' of yellow curls. There'd be some excuse 
 for Mr. Jackson lettin' them run in his mind. Bedad, 
 there's ten sthrikin'. He'll have to put them out of his 
 thoughts now if he wants to balance this evenin' in time 
 to bring me the pup. An' I must start an' be doin' 
 somethin' myself. Ye'd keep me bletherin' here all day. 
 I wish my father had put me to car-dhrivin', instead of 
 makin' me work for my livin' ! " 
 
 Whether or not yellow curls had been running in his 
 head before that hour, the last stroke of ten found Mr. 
 Jackson at his desk, his ink-bottles clean and filled to 
 the precise depth that ensured a full dip without the 
 danger of blots, his cash-book neatly headed, his cuffs 
 carefully turned back in the shiny arms of his office coat, 
 and on his rather boyish countenance a general air of 
 being ready and even willing to do business that would 
 have suggested to the initiated the presence of an In- 
 terim Manager at the least. 
 
 On this occasion it was due to the fact that the new 
 manager had only very recently taken up his duties. 
 
 At a two-handed branch the manager and his one-man 
 staff must either be enemies or comrades ; and there was 
 every sign that the latter relation was likely to obtain 
 between the cashier and his new chief, when the first 
 caution and formality had passed off. 
 
 The two officials had come to certain conclusions about
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 21 
 
 each other. The manager had made up his mind that 
 he was lucky in his cashier, who seemed a quick and 
 competent hand, with a sound knowledge of country 
 business. He noted that Mr. Jackson was rather ad- 
 dicted to sport, and somewhat of a Philistine about lit- 
 erature, music, and art ; prone to hasty action, and swift 
 repentance therefore ; and finally, that he was a little in 
 love with Miss Nora Normanby, and, like most young 
 men in his condition, very ready to talk about the lady 
 of his affections. 
 
 The cashier for his part had already confided to his 
 intimates that " the new boss was a real decent sort." 
 Beyond this vague appreciation and a comfortable sense 
 that his own importance in the office was much enhanced 
 by his senior's present ignorance of the country around, 
 he had not concerned himself very much. 
 
 Had he been dowered with a keener faculty of observa- 
 tion he would have observed that his chief, still well on 
 the right side of forty, was given to affect the airs of 
 a man still more mature, was a little inclined to philoso- 
 phizing, at times with a tinge of cynicism, and while 
 advising others from the point of view of pure reason, 
 was in his own actions rather more influenced by human 
 frailty than he was quite aware. 
 
 The first customer of the day was a large, red-faced, 
 comfortable-looking woman arrayed in a striped petti- 
 coat and a tartan shawl. The manager, who had formed 
 a very favorable opinion of his cashier's counter manner, 
 was pained to observe a certain curtness in Mr. Jack- 
 son's address, and when the woman came along the coun- 
 ter to greet him he thought it necessary to shake hands 
 with her a little more effusively than her appearance 
 warranted. 
 
 " So you're the new manager Mr. Wildridge, isn't 
 it ? an' a nice friendly man ye seem to be. Well, I 
 hope ye'll be no worse than the last man. A decent, 
 kindly gentleman, an' very good to the poor an* needy.
 
 22 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 But ye'll be much the same ; I know that by the look of 
 ye. And there's a great name of you in the town al- 
 ready. We're very plain outspoken people about the 
 town of Portnamuck, an' if we didn't like ye we wouldn't 
 be long sayin' it. But everybody says you'll do. I've a 
 wee bit of a bill here that I'll be in to renew some of these 
 days; but I'll come in good time. Ye'll have no need 
 to notice ould Marget Ann. I don't owe another penny 
 in the town, thank the Lord; an' I'll soon be clear of 
 this too. The youngest of seven'll soon be able to earn 
 for himself, and then I can sit down an' fold my hands. 
 Maybe afther awhile it's bringin' in to you I'll be, an' 
 not wantin' from ye any more. Good mornin', sir, an' 
 bless your sonsy face. Good mornin', Mr. Jackson. 
 Keep an eye on him, Mr. Wildridge, sir, he's a terrible 
 young man among the girls." 
 
 The swing-doors of the office flung back to their widest 
 to accommodate Marget Ann's ample girth, and clashed 
 noisily after her. 
 
 " Seems a decent, struggling creature that," observed 
 the manager. 
 
 " An infernal old rip," said Mr. Jackson. " In debt 
 in every shop in the town. Drinks like a fish. Lives on 
 what the elder children send her from America, and 
 hasn't done a stroke since her bad tongue drove the hus- 
 band to his grave. The bill's been running here these 
 six years, and there's a fight every time to get anything 
 off it. An oily-tongued old rascal, sir. Keep an eye 
 on her if you take my advice." 
 
 The manager, a little abashed by his failure to see 
 through Marget Ann's oiliness, did not look up from his 
 writing till the swing-doors opened again, to disclose a 
 small gray-headed man of sixty or over, dressed in the 
 remains of what had been a long brown overcoat and 
 a pair of corduroy trousers, the bottoms of which hung 
 in various finenesses of fringe round two lumps of mud 
 where doubtless lurked a pair of boots. His face,
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 23 
 
 tanned to mahogany by exposure to the weather, was 
 covered by an extraordinary network of wrinkles thrown 
 up into clearer outline by the dirt with which they were 
 filled, and his whole appearance to the inhabitant of a 
 city would have suggested squalid poverty. 
 
 The man took off his hat humbly as he entered, and 
 laying it on the counter, leant over confidentially to Mr. 
 Jackson. 
 
 " I came in about that wee bill," he said. 
 
 " What wee bill ? " said the cashier testily. " Do you 
 think we've only one bill in the place. Oh, you're 
 Barney of the Mill. Ten pounds your bill is. I sup- 
 pose you're going to pay it? " 
 
 The man fumbled uneasily with his hat. 
 
 " Well now, your honor, if you could see your way to 
 renew it this time." 
 
 " Go up to the manager," said Mr. Jackson. " Make 
 him pay a pound, sir," he whispered. 
 
 " You'll have to pay off at least a pound," said the 
 manager. " This bill has been running too long with- 
 out reduction." 
 
 " I could have give five pound this time, your honor, 
 an' maybe more, but I had the misfortune to have a 
 springin' cow die on my hands last week, an' I'll have to 
 scrape ivery penny I can to try an' buy another, for 
 the childher must have a dhrop of milk " 
 
 " That cow has died every four months these three 
 years," whispered Jackson ; " and his youngest child is 
 a tram-conductor in Belfast." 
 
 " You must reduce this bill at least a pound," said the 
 manager firmly. 
 
 " You're a hard man, your honor, a hard man ; but 
 if I must, I must." And the old fellow drew a small 
 leather bag from some recess of the brown overcoat, and 
 pulling out a roll of one-pound notes, disentangled two 
 and passed them across to the cashier. " Don't be 
 chargin' me too much now, Mr. Jackson," he said.
 
 24 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 " That was wicked intherest ye put on me last time, an' 
 me only three days late comin' in about the bill." 
 
 " That's the best I can do, Barney," said Jackson 
 cheerfully, handing out the change. " I suppose John 
 will be in to sign later on. Come three days earlier the 
 next time, and we'll see what we can do about the 
 interest." 
 
 " It seems hard to squeeze a poor devil like that," said 
 the manager when Barney had withdrawn. 
 
 " Faith, sir," said Jackson, " Barney doesn't consider 
 himself a poor devil at all. He has twenty-five acres of 
 good land, and has brought up six children on it." 
 
 " But, good heavens," said the manager, " look at the 
 dirt and squalor of the man." 
 
 " Oh, that's because it's bill-day with Barney," said 
 Jackson. " It wouldn't do to come in here with his 
 Sunday suit on. He'd expect to be made pay more than 
 a pound, and he'd far rather pay less. But he and his 
 bailsman are good enough for the money. Every now 
 and then Barney " Mr. Jackson broke off hurriedly 
 as a figure appeared at the door. " Mr. Wildridge," he 
 whispered eagerly, " do you remember my pointing out 
 Miss Nora Normanby to you yesterday evening? 
 Here's her father, the rector." 
 
 An old man of about sixty entered. The manager 
 had a swift impression of a tall, stooping figure, mild 
 blue eyes peering uncertainly through gold-rimmed 
 glasses perched on the bridge of a very hooked nose, and 
 a profusion of patriarchal locks of pure white hair fall- 
 ing over the neck of a shabby black cloak. 
 
 The old gentleman raised a very old and rusty clerical 
 hat as he caught the manager's eye, and bowed a little 
 ceremoniously. 
 
 " Good morning, sir," he said in a thin clear voice, 
 slightly tremulous with age. " I think I have the pleas- 
 ure of meeting the new manager, Mr. Wildridge. Good
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 25 
 
 morning, Mr. Jackson. Perhaps you will be good 
 enough, Mr. Jackson, to present me to your chief." 
 
 " This is Mr. Normanby, sir," said Mr. Jackson ; 
 " one of the Bank's oldest customers." 
 
 " Too old, Mr. Wildridge, too old I am afraid to be of 
 much account either physically or financially. You 
 mustn't be misled, sir, by your cashier's dwelling on my 
 long connection with the Downshire Bank. From a 
 Bank point of view I'm afraid I am very small beer, Mr. 
 Wildridge. But I am very glad to make your ac- 
 quaintance, sir. I bid a hearty welcome to our latest 
 townsman. And you mustn't make little of your posi- 
 tion, Mr. Wildridge. We think ourselves a rather im- 
 portant community. You are now, sir, a citizen of no 
 mean city." 
 
 " And one that is likely to be even more important 
 in the near future, if all I learn is correct," said Mr. 
 Wildridge. " I've been hearing great accounts of new 
 enterprises mills, and so on. I rather think, too, I 
 heard the name of a Mr. Normanby mentioned in con- 
 nection with them. I am afraid, sir, you have been be- 
 littling your importance. But perhaps it isn't the same 
 Mr. Normanby?" 
 
 It is only fair to Mr. Wildridge to say that he had 
 just read a slip passed over by his cashier. " Rub it in 
 pretty thick. Decent as they're made ; but a bit vain." 
 
 " You flatter me, sir, you flatter me," answered Mr. 
 Normanby in high good-humor. " I have indeed tried 
 to foster new industries in our district, but with poor 
 success. A fruit-growing enterprise that promised well 
 was blighted by the climate. Our people did their best ; 
 but circumstances were against them. It was a pity, 
 too by the third year " 
 
 He looked vacantly before him, and tapped the coun- 
 ter with the fingers of one hand, muttering softly to 
 himself.
 
 26 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 " I beg your pardon, sir," he exclaimed, recalling him- 
 self with a start. " I owe you a thousand apologies for 
 my absent-mindedness. I am incurable, incurable. I 
 was actually calculating the number of barrels of apples 
 per acre. We failed, sir, anyhow. And we failed with 
 some other little ventures. But we'll succeed yet. 
 We'll do great things in Portnamuck some time. I have 
 confidence in the people. A little lazy perhaps ; but 
 kindly, sir, kindly. You find them a kindly, warm- 
 hearted people, Mr. Jackson ? " 
 
 " I've never met the like of them anywhere," returned 
 Jackson with enthusiasm. I am afraid he winked 
 slightly at his manager at the same time. 
 
 " If I thought material prosperity would harden them 
 and take away their unsophisticated kindness of heart," 
 said Mr. Normanby, " I would have no part in fostering 
 industrial development among my people. But I have 
 known them for a lifetime. Honest and true they are, 
 and honest and true they will remain. Why should 
 wealth corrupt them " he began to pace up and down 
 the office floor oblivious of his audience " wealth is a 
 good, a great good to humanity if it be but rightly used 
 I declare, my dear sir, I am dreaming again. An old 
 castle-builder, Mr. Wildridge, an old castle-builder. It 
 is the appointed portion of the old, sir * Your old men 
 shall dream dreams ' ; but I am afraid I was dreaming 
 dreams even before I had an excuse of age." 
 
 " It is a generous dream, Mr. Normanby," said the 
 manager, " to dream of the public good." 
 
 " You are kind, sir," returned the old man with 
 patent gratification. " Perhaps I may say that my 
 dreaming is not altogether selfish. Sometimes I throw 
 off my years, even yet, and see visions. Visions of a 
 prosperous, contented town, a hive of busy bees, doing 
 good to the world and rej oicing in it. I hear the throb 
 of steam and the hum of wheels. I see an iron way 
 stretching from our doors to carry the product of our
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 27 
 
 industry to the ends of the earth. You are smiling, Mr. 
 Jackson," said Mr. Normanby, breaking off in his rhap- 
 sody " no, no ; I am never hurt, my dear young friend, 
 that you smile at me, and less than ever to-day. I have 
 a little secret to confide to you both. I feel I must tell 
 some one ; and whom sooner than the keepers of the pub- 
 lic purse. I know the sanctity of a banker's word. 
 
 " But first of all, Mr. Wildridge, I must put a small 
 business proposition before you. My little secret if dis- 
 closed might sway you to your disadvantage. I have 
 called to know if you could advance me a further sum of 
 fifty pounds. I say a further sum, sir, since I am al- 
 ready indebted to you to the amount of one hundred 
 pounds." 
 
 " I know, Mr. Normanby," said the manager. " On 
 a bill with your cousin in Belfast." 
 
 " Quite so, Mr. Wildridge," said the old man. " I see 
 you are on the alert. No hoodwinking you financial 
 men. Now, sir, I am a business man too, and I know 
 you will require security. I thought perhaps the deeds 
 of a little piece of property of mine in the town here 
 might be sufficient." 
 
 The manager picked up a scrap of paper from the 
 ever-watchful Mr. Jackson. " Title defective," he read. 
 
 " It is due to you," went on Mr. Normanby, " to say 
 that I understand there is some flaw in the documents 
 relating to the property. My old grandfather, who was 
 something of a dreamer too, Mr. Wildridge, drew up a 
 sort of informal agreement with the present Mr. de 
 Bullevant's father when he took the ground on which 
 the property once a stocking factory was built, 
 and I fear it would not hold water. But the loan would 
 be for a very short time, sir, as I will explain to you, and 
 perhaps you could overlook the irregularity." 
 
 " Of course the deeds would have to be submitted to 
 my head office, Mr. Normanby," said the manager, " and 
 if the flaw were serious but would the present Mr. de
 
 28 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 Bullevant not rectify the grant for you? I presume it 
 was his father's intention to give a good title." 
 
 "Undoubtedly, sir, undoubtedly," answered Mr. 
 Normanby. " But I have already approached the pres- 
 ent Mr. de Bullevant and found him a little wanting in 
 perception of the point of honor. He requires a fine, 
 Mr. Wildridge, a heavier one than I could at present 
 pay, and a heavier one than is just. I am afraid noth- 
 ing can be done in that direction. So I will not press 
 you, sir. I am quite aware that the matter must be 
 looked at in a purely business way." 
 
 " Let me see the deeds, anyway," said Mr. Wildridge. 
 " Perhaps the flaw is not vital. You may depend upon 
 it I will do what I can." 
 
 " It is kind of you, sir," returned Mr. Normanby, 
 bowing slightly, " and if necessary I will avail myself 
 of your courtesy. But it may not be necessary. And 
 that brings me to my secret: Mr. Wildridge, as a new 
 friend, and Mr. Jackson as an old one " he looked 
 from one to another with an air of triumph " I may 
 tell you in confidence of course you will treat it as 
 confidential " 
 
 " Certainly, sir," said both with becoming impassive- 
 ness, leaning forward eagerly all the same. 
 
 " In a short time, perhaps a few weeks, certainly in 
 a few months, you may see me a very wealthy man." 
 
 " You don't say so, sir," said Mr. Jackson a little 
 blankly. It is to be feared that the vision of Miss Nora 
 Normanby as an heiress was not an unmixed satisfaction 
 to that young man. 
 
 " I cannot speak with absolute certainty yet," went 
 on Mr. Normanby. " I may not be able to see my way 
 clear to accept it ; but at the present moment a fortune 
 is within my reach. It is no day-dream, Mr. Wild- 
 ridge," said the old man, smilingly shaking his head. 
 " Hard cash, sir. Eighty thousand jingling, tingling, 
 golden, minted quid. Do you read Stevenson, sir? "
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 29 
 
 "Not a 'Treasure Island,' is it, Mr. Normanby?" 
 said the manager. 
 
 " Ah, I see you do," answered Mr. Normanby. " No, 
 sir ; much simpler than that. But you'll have my secret 
 out of me if I delay much longer. Come, gentlemen," 
 he said, turning back with an air of mischief, " I'll give 
 you a hint. It's coming to me from over the water. 
 Make the most of that. And now I must be off. I 
 intend to confide also in Mr. Berryman. He would feel 
 hurt if I did not put him on an equality with his brother 
 bankers." 
 
 Mr. Wildridge and Mr. Jackson exchanged glances of 
 dismay. 
 
 " You will not omit to leave those deeds with me, Mr. 
 Normanby ? " said the manager. " If the flaw is not 
 too serious the title may satisfy my head office. And if 
 it is, we may perhaps find some other way out of the 
 difficulty." 
 
 " I shall not forget your kindness, sir," said Mr. Nor- 
 manby, raising his hat. " Good day, Mr. Wildridge. 
 Good day, Mr. Jackson." 
 
 There was a few moments' silence in the Bank office 
 after Mr. Normanby's departure. 
 
 " Well, Mr. Jackson," said the manager at last, 
 " what do you think of this, eh? " 
 
 " Faith, sir, I don't know what to think. He's an 
 awful old ass in many ways, and somebody may be pull- 
 ing his leg ; but he seems cocksure about it. There may 
 be something in what he says." 
 
 " He wouldn't be making up this yarn for our bene- 
 fit? " said the manager. 
 
 " Oh no, sir," said Jackson eagerly ; " he's the soul 
 of honor, and quite above anything of the sort." 
 
 " A remarkably pretty girl, his daughter," remarked 
 the manager, a thought dryly. 
 
 " It isn't that, really sir," said the cashier. " Honor 
 bright. I'd stake my life on his word."
 
 30 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 " I'm glad to hear it," returned the manager. '* I 
 confess I felt a little suspicious. And the hint about 
 our friend in the Opposition seemed rather artistically 
 thrown in at the end." 
 
 " Oh, that's him down to the ground, sir," said Jack- 
 son. " He's a desperately conscientious old chap, and 
 he'd think he wasn't playing the game if he didn't give 
 old Berryman the news after telling us. I say, sir ; it'll 
 be awkward if the whole story is true, and that old hum- 
 bug down the street gets his account." 
 
 " He hasn't an account, then? " said the manager. 
 
 " No, sir," said Jackson, " nothing but the bill here. 
 We didn't want him, he's always been so hard up; and 
 they didn't want him down the street. But they'll want 
 him now. Old Berryman'll be after him with a terrier. 
 Do you know, sir, I think you should have given him 
 that fifty pounds. He'd keep a splendid account if he 
 gets all that money. I'd have given him the fifty on 
 chance. Should I put on my hat and catch him before 
 he gets to the other Bank ? " 
 
 Mr. Jackson, all on fire with the notion, had his office 
 jacket half unbuttoned. 
 
 " I rather fancy, Mr. Jackson," said his manager im- 
 perturbably, " that you will have some very animated 
 correspondence with your directors when you become a 
 manager. But you'll be less impetuous by that time. 
 I think we'll let things remain as they are till we're on a 
 little surer ground. We're all right with Mr. Nor- 
 manby yet. We've obliged him before, and we haven't 
 refused him this time." 
 
 " You don't know old Berryman," said Mr. Jackson. 
 " If he finds the money's coming right enough, he'll go 
 up and sit on Mr. Normanby's hall-door steps till he 
 gets an account out of him." 
 
 " If he's the man I take him for he'll put him off just 
 as I did till he has accurate information on the subject," 
 said the manager ; " and we can surely get that as soon
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 31 
 
 as he can. I'm too new a comer to have much chance; 
 but I'll rely on you. You'll be out of this at four, and 
 if you haven't more information than the North-Eastern 
 Bank by ten o'clock to-morrow, you're not the man I 
 think you. You have a tremendous pull over them, you 
 know." 
 
 " How, sir? " asked Mr. Jackson, puzzled. 
 
 " He's an ordinary enough chap to look at, the cashier 
 down there, isn't he? " said the manager. 
 
 " He's a common-looking little bounder," said Jack- 
 son heartily. " But I don't see Oh ! " said Jack- 
 son. " It wouldn't be a bit of good, sir. If she saw I 
 was trying to pump her, the dickens a word I could get 
 out of her. You don't know how perverse girls can be." 
 
 "Do I not?" said the manager. "That's why my 
 hair's so thin. But in my young days there used to be 
 a way of getting round them." 
 
 " I know, sir," said Jackson soberly, " and with most 
 girls I'm just as fly as the next. But somehow with 
 her " 
 
 " Hallo," said the manager ; " for a man on a hundred 
 and forty this looks serious. But a father-in-law with 
 eighty thousand all right, now, I'll not chaff. But 
 make sure the money's there strictly in the interests 
 of the Bank, of course and let me know to-morrow if 
 you can. There's a customer. Dismiss the whole thing 
 from your mind till you're finished." 
 
 I am sure Mr. Jackson did his best to follow his man- 
 ager's advice. But it is on record in the books of the 
 Bank till this day that on that particular evening the 
 cash of the Portnamuck branch of the Downshire Bank 
 balanced one pound fourteen shillings and twopence 
 short.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 KNOWING from previous experience that Mr. 
 Denis O'Flaherty's forge was one of the chief 
 centers of gossip in Portnamuck, Mr. Jackson 
 on quitting the Bank concluded that he would be killing 
 two birds with one stone by keeping to his original in- 
 tention and bringing his fox-terrier pup to Denis for 
 the proposed mutilation, or, as dog-fanciers generally 
 look on the act, improvement. On arriving at the forge 
 he found Phil Moran and a little knot of idlers gathered 
 to view the ceremony. 
 
 All was ready ; the fatal implement was resting on the 
 anvil, and the blacksmith's assistant, a heavy, stupid- 
 looking young giant, was heating a rod of nail-iron in 
 the fire for the necessary cautery. 
 
 " Begad, a very tidy-looking pup, Mr. Jackson," said 
 the blacksmith, eyeing the dog critically. " Would ye 
 take a fair offer for him ? " 
 
 " He's not for sale, Denis," said Mr. Jackson. 
 
 " I'll give ye half a sovereign for him on chance," said 
 the blacksmith, looking at the dog with great approval. 
 
 " No use, Denis," returned Mr. Jackson. " In the 
 first place I paid a guinea for him, and in the second 
 he's intended for a present." 
 
 " Ah, sure she has plenty of dogs already," said the 
 blacksmith. " Now don't be making him blush, boys " 
 to the grinning audience. " But come along, now ; 
 you hold the dog and I'll have it off in a twinkling. 
 Ready with that hot iron, Johnny." 
 
 " Hold on till I get it well red," said Johnny, tugging 
 at the bellows with one hand. " I don't think you're 
 goin' about the job right, master, all the same." 
 
 32
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 33 
 
 " How's that, Johnny? " said the blacksmith, winking 
 at the crowd, among whom Johnny's want of mental 
 brilliancy was common property. 
 
 " My ould uncle Joe, that had the name of knowin* 
 more about dogs than any man in Ireland, always bit 
 the end off a pup's tail. He said it was a far neater 
 job more of a finish about it." 
 
 " Do ye say so, Johnny ? " answered the blacksmith. 
 He rubbed his chin in affected indecision. " Your uncle 
 Joe's opinion is worth havin', for I always heard he was 
 a very knowledgeable man about dogs. Maybe we 
 should get the tail bitten off. But who'd we get to do it 
 for us?" 
 
 " Who better than Johnny himself," said Phil Moran ; 
 " him that has seen it done? " 
 
 " That's true," chorused the crowd in great delight ; 
 " Johnny's the man." 
 
 " Aw, begob," said Johnny, drawing back. " I 
 wouldn't undertake the job myself at all." 
 
 " There's nobody else for it but you," said the black- 
 smith persuasively. " If you don't take it up, now that 
 your Uncle Joe's dead and gone, the whole art of the 
 thing'll be lost to the country. You'll make it worth 
 his while, Mr. Jackson," said the blacksmith, drawing 
 a face at the cashier. 
 
 " Certainly I will," said Jackson, entering fully into 
 the spirit of the j oke. " I'll give him half a crown if he 
 makes a neat job of it." 
 
 " A fair offer," cried the blacksmith. " Come on 
 now, Johnny." He grasped the hesitating Johnny by 
 the arm and pulled him forward. " Here, Phil, do you 
 hold the dog, and I'll take charge of the hot iron. Down 
 on your knees, Johnny." And before Johnny knew 
 where he was, the dog's tail was at his lips. 
 
 " You won't let him actually do it," whispered Jack- 
 son agitatedly to the blacksmith. " No, Denis, you 
 will not. I won't let you."
 
 34 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 " All right, Mr. Jackson," said the blacksmith regret- 
 fully ; " I won't then. I'll pull the brute away before 
 he bites. But it's spoilin' a great joke. Here, Phil, 
 give me the dog, and do you work the iron. Now, 
 Johnny, my son, don't bite till I give you the word." 
 
 The blacksmith pushed the dog towards the hesitating 
 Johnny amid loud applause from the grinning specta- 
 tors. " Go it, Johnny," cried one. " Don't make 
 two bites of a cherry," cried another. " Mind you, 
 Johnny," shouted a third, " it's sudden death if you 
 swallow the stump." 
 
 " Are you ready now, Johnny ? " asked the black- 
 smith. " Watch my hand. I'll give three taps on my 
 knee and at the third do you bite like blazes. Ready 
 with the iron, Phil." 
 
 The blacksmith raised his hand, the crowd bent for- 
 ward eagerly. Moran took a final tug at the bellows, 
 and Mr. Jackson, who was by no means sure of Denis's 
 bona fides, stepped closer to his arm as a precautionary 
 measure. Johnny drew a long breath. 
 
 " I can't do it," he said, throwing up his head sud- 
 denly and struggling to his knees. " No, I can't do it." 
 
 " Ah, coward, coward," came from the disappointed 
 onlookers. " You're no man, Johnny ; you're backing 
 out of it." 
 
 " Come on now," said the blacksmith coaxingly. 
 " It's easy earned money. A minute'll do the job. 
 You'll give him three-an'-sixpence, Mr. Jackson? He 
 says he will, Johnny. Come along; quick now before 
 he changes his mind." 
 
 " All right," said Johnny with dismal resolution. He 
 clenched his fists, the blacksmith again raised a hand, 
 the elbowing crowd drew round in a closer semicircle; 
 when all at once the hushed expectation was broken by 
 a ringing girlish voice from the doorway. 
 
 " What mischief are you up to, Denis O'Flaherty ? 
 What's this I hear you're doing on a poor dog? "
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 35 
 
 " By the Lord Harry," said the blacksmith in dismay, 
 " it's Miss Nora ! " 
 
 Instantly Johnny scrambled to his feet, picked up a 
 hammer, and began industriously to batter an old piece 
 of horseshoe. Phil Moran dropped the handle of the 
 bellows like a hot potato. The clatter of Mr. Jackson's 
 severe back-fall over a heap of scrap-iron was covered 
 by the shouts and laughter of the crowd as it dispersed 
 before Miss Normanby''s vigorous switch, and his person 
 all but the legs was concealed in the odorous obscurity 
 of the rubbish corner behind the forge fire. The black- 
 smith alone stood his ground, or rather sat it, with the 
 dog between his knees. But he didn't look at all easy 
 in his mind, and eyed the tall figure of Miss Normanby 
 and her threatening switch with comical mistrust. 
 
 " It's all right, Miss Nora," he said apologetically. 
 " We're just cropping a dog's tail. You're a bit of a 
 dog-fancier yourself, and you know it must be done." 
 
 " I don't know whether it must be done or not," said 
 Miss Normanby. " I know it is done. But you're not 
 going to torture the poor little pup by letting this dirty 
 cannibal, Johnny Malone, bite it off. Faugh! you 
 disgusting big brute. Go away and hide yourself, 
 Johnny " 
 
 " In the name of goodness, Miss Nora " began 
 
 the blacksmith. 
 
 " You needn't bother lying, Denis," interrupted Miss 
 Normanby curtly. " Little Billy Dougherty told me all 
 about it." 
 
 " It was only a joke, Miss Nora," protested the black- 
 smith. " We never meant to let him do it. I was go- 
 ing to take the tail off myself." 
 
 '* And what were you going to do with its poor bleed- 
 ing stump? " demanded Miss Normanby. 
 
 " Oh, just a touch with the hot iron there," said the 
 blacksmith. " Don't, Miss Nora," he shouted ; " for 
 heaven's sake watch ! You'll put my eye out ! "
 
 36 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 " Drop the dog," cried Miss Normanby, brandishing 
 the hissing iron within an inch of the blacksmith's nose. 
 " Drop him now, Denis ; quick. That's right. Who 
 owns him? Tell me, or I'll see how a touch of a hot 
 iron will do with you. Come on now, Denis ! Tell me." 
 She gave his leather apron an experimental poke. 
 " And that's nothing to the way your nose will fizzle. 
 Quick, tell me." 
 
 " The dog's my own, Miss Nora," said the blacksmith, 
 backing away frantically. " I bought him for half a 
 sovereign from my brother-in-law in Loughbritty. 
 Honor bright, I did, Miss Nora." 
 
 " Very well, Denis. You'll have that dog cropped in 
 a proper and humane fashion at the vet's. Don't for- 
 get. I'll ask him about it, mind. And I'll forgive you 
 this time, because you know no better. But if I find out 
 it was anybody else who should know better, I'll put 
 them out of the town. Good-by, now, Denis, and mind 
 what I say. If you don't heed me I'll tell Father Kelly, 
 and he'll put a curse on you in Irish will make your 
 teeth fall out of your gums. There's your hot iron." 
 She walked over to the fire and thrust the iron rod into 
 the blaze. " Hallo, Denis," she cried, " who's this hid- 
 ing behind the fire? " 
 
 " For the love of goodness, Miss Nora," cried the 
 blacksmith, pulling her back in pretended alarm, " keep 
 away from him. That's drunken Billy, the horse- 
 blocker, an' he's as full as a fiddler, an' as cross as a bag 
 of weasels. Don't interfere with him, if you're wise. 
 He's a bad one in drink." 
 
 " What's he cross for if he's full ? " said Miss Nora. 
 " I wouldn't be cross if I was full, I'm sure. Watch me 
 singe his trousers." She plucked the iron out of the fire. 
 
 " Easy, Miss Nora, darlin'," shouted the blacksmith, 
 catching at her arm. 
 
 But he was too late. The hissing point described a 
 curve in the direction of the unfortunate Mr. Jackson's
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 37 
 
 trousers. A violent convulsion of the enclosed members 
 attested the accuracy of Miss Normanby's aim, and her 
 peals of delight could be heard till her long limbs had 
 carried her out of sight. 
 
 The blacksmith looked after her ruefully. 
 
 " By my sowl, Mr. Jackson," he said, turning to the 
 emerging cashier, " ye'll have fun with that one if ye 
 ever get her." 
 
 But Mr. Jackson's attention was concentrated on the 
 legs of his trousers. 
 
 " Bad scran to it," he ejaculated heartily ; " there's 
 a hole clean burnt through. Couldn't you have caught 
 her hand ? " 
 
 " It doesn't matter about the burn, Mr. Jackson," 
 said the blacksmith, walking round him. " The breeches 
 is ruined without it. The whole seat of them is all cov- 
 ered over with black creesh. Ye must have been sittin' 
 on the box of an axle." 
 
 " So I have," said the cashier, withdrawing a dis- 
 colored hand from the part affected. " Well, confound 
 it anyway. That settles the trousers now. I might 
 have got the burnt hole patched. Do you think I 
 could get the grease taken off, Denis? " 
 
 " Totally impossible," replied the blacksmith, exam- 
 ining the garments critically. " Your right leg would 
 do for a greasy pole at a Sports. This is an expensive 
 job for you, Mr. Jackson, sir." 
 
 "It's a d d expensive job," said Mr. Jackson with 
 emphasis. " Just a guinea for a new pair of pants, 
 and I'll never get the coat and vest matched." 
 
 " An' then there's the loss of the dog too," said the 
 blacksmith. 
 
 " Loss of the dog? The dog's not lost. Here, Snap, 
 Snap " he whistled ; " there he is. Come here, you 
 little brute ! " 
 
 Snap retired bashfully behind the anvil as Mr. Jack- 
 son aimed a mild kick at him.
 
 38 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 " Ye never dare be seen out with him now," said the 
 blacksmith, " after what Miss Nora said. But mebbe 
 ye don't mind about Miss Nora," he added carelessly. 
 " Of course it'd be makin' a liar of me too. Ye heard 
 me takin' the blame on myself an' sayin' the dog was 
 mine." 
 
 " I'm not troubling about making you out a liar, 
 Denis," said Mr. Jackson. " I heard you tell Miss 
 Normanby as many lies as would fill a sack." He paused 
 a moment irresolutely. " I suppose she would be mad 
 with me about the dog? " 
 
 " Ye heard her," said the blacksmith. 
 
 " Of all the blessed luck," said Mr. Jackson. " And 
 I meant the dog for her. Very well, Denis, you may 
 keep the brute. He's an unlucky devil as far as I can 
 see, anyhow." 
 
 " Thank ye, Mr. Jackson," said the blacksmith. 
 " You're a gentleman. Ye can depend on me not to 
 say who I got him from." But Denis's grin of triumph 
 was too unguarded. 
 
 " On second thoughts, Denis," said Mr. Jackson, " it 
 would be a pity to make you out a liar. You told Miss 
 Normanby you paid ten shillings for the dog. We'll 
 just make that part of the story come true. Now you 
 needn't be protesting. You've humbugged me well 
 enough as it is. If it hadn't been for your nonsense 
 about Johnny here, the dog would be mine still, and I'd 
 be a pair of trousers to the good. Half a sovereign, or 
 I'll drown him. Come on now. I paid a guinea for 
 him, and a guinea for the trousers. Half a sovereign's 
 little enough to save out of the wreck." 
 
 " Bad luck to me," said the blacksmith, drawing the 
 required coin out of his pocket, " if I hadn't winked at 
 Johnny there, I had him for nothing. Well, you'll 
 stand a drink over it ? " 
 
 " I will surely," said Mr. Jackson. " Where'll we 
 go?"
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 39 
 
 " We'll slip into Gerahan's by the wee lane," said the 
 blacksmith. " It wouldn't suit a gentleman like you 
 to be seen going into a pub in broad daylight. I'll be 
 back in a minute or two, Johnny."
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 MICHAEL up at the hotel may be a bit hard 
 to stand at times," said the blacksmith, 
 setting down his tankard on the table of 
 the " snug " in Gerahan's public-house ; " but it's well 
 worth while puttin' up with him for the dhrink he keeps. 
 Pat Gerahan is a brave wee fellow enough, but his 
 draught stout is just dish-water compared to Michael's. 
 An' as for his whisky ! " 
 
 " Do you still drop into Michael's of an evening, 
 Denis ? " asked Mr. Jackson, lighting a cigarette. 
 
 " Ach, 'deed I do," answered the blacksmith. " It 
 passes an hour or two right well. An' blacksmithin' is 
 a very dry job." 
 
 " I suppose there's always plenty of news going? " 
 said Mr. Jackson. 
 
 " Any amount of it," said the blacksmith. " There's 
 never less than six or eight, any night, an' what one 
 misses the other hits. I tell ye there's not much hap- 
 pens about Portnamuck that we haven't the first of." 
 
 " Did you hear anything about a brother of Mr. Nor- 
 manby's that's supposed to have died abroad lately," 
 said Mr. Jackson off-handedly. " There was some re- 
 port of it in the town." 
 
 " Do ye know I was just going to ask you about 
 that," said the blacksmith. " The old fellow has been 
 puttin' in great inquiries about the brother this last 
 while. He was at Finnegan, the draper, about it, an' 
 Michael himself, an' even Terry, the waiter, one day he 
 met him in the street. He wanted to make out that the 
 brother had went to Spain ; but Terry still stuck to it 
 that the last heard of him was from America. 
 
 40
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 41 
 
 " Would he have made money out there, do you think, 
 Mr. Jackson, an' the old man be on the track of it ? He 
 might. An' that minds me, now wee Molly Dugan 
 up beside the post office was tellin' me that this last 
 while there has been a heap of foreign letters for Mr. 
 Normanby. She spotted Joe the postman sortin' the 
 thin envelopes into the Rectory bundle when she was in 
 for stamps. She always be's there buyin' stamps when 
 the mail-car comes in; an' troth it's wonderful the in- 
 formation she picks up." 
 
 " And you say his brother has left him money ? " 
 interposed Mr. Jackson. 
 
 " I said nothin' of the sort," answered the blacksmith. 
 He looked sharply at the cashier. " Ha ! I see what 
 you're after, Mr. Jackson. It's pumpin' me you are; 
 an' I expect you know all about it the whole time. You 
 Bank men has terrible noses for the money. Is it much, 
 Mr. Jackson ? Tell me now. Ye needn't be afraid of it 
 goin' further. Only I'd just like to know for curios- 
 ity." 
 
 " I know no more about it than you do yourself, 
 Denis," protested Mr. Jackson. " It was you that 
 mentioned money, not I." 
 
 " Ye needn't tell me," said the blacksmith knowingly. 
 " You've got a hint somewhere or other, an' now you're 
 smellin' round tryin' to get information an' bone the 
 money for the Bank. I see it in your face now, Mr. 
 Jackson " and indeed the cashier was a little out of 
 countenance at the blacksmith's penetration ; " but never 
 mind, I'd sooner give you a lift than the other people. 
 Old Berryman's far too soapy for me, an' I like the look 
 of that new boss of yours. The man for you to tackle 
 is Finnegan, the draper. He's a churchwarden of Mr. 
 Normanby's ; an' the old man puts great faith in him, 
 all on account of the long black melancholy mug of him. 
 He can go home as solemn-lookin' as the driver of a 
 hearse, an' him bung-full of hot punch; an' because I
 
 42 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 still raise a bit of a joke or a lilt of a song when I get 
 one or two half-ones, the people about here would nearly 
 try an' make me out a drunkard. Turn you up that 
 way, Mr. Jackson," he continued, as they emerged from 
 the back door, " an* up the wee entry. It'll bring you 
 out just foment Finnegan's shop." 
 
 " I say, Denis," said the cashier, turning back, " don't 
 mention my name in connexion with the report." 
 
 " Mum's the word," answered the blacksmith, with a 
 wink intended to convey an extreme sense of responsi- 
 bility. " I'll not give ye away. Mr. Jackson," he 
 called, " if ye hear nothing from old Finnegan, try 
 Terry the waiter. He has all the news of this neighbor- 
 hood for the last fifty years. An' he knew the old man's 
 brother well," he added still louder, " an' is sure to have 
 picked up any news about him that's goin'." 
 
 He waved his hand affably in answer to Mr. Jackson's 
 anguished appeals for silence, and pursued his way 
 thoughtfully towards the forge. A sense of the impo- 
 tence of a single pint of draught stout in the presence of 
 a well-developed thirst assailed him with increasing force 
 at each yard of the way. Coupled with the curiosity 
 aroused by his talk with the cashier it was irresistible. 
 At the dividing of the ways the blacksmith turned up 
 towards Michael Brannegan's hotel. 
 
 Old Terry having passed through his usual daily 
 stages of boots, ostler, and chambermaid, had progressed 
 as far as that of waiter, and was, as the blacksmith 
 surmised, engaged in preparing the smoking-room for 
 its nightly parliament. He assented heartily to Denis's 
 inclusion of room-cleaning in the category of " dry " 
 jobs, and speedily brought forth two tankards of foam- 
 ing porter. 
 
 " Here's to ye, Terry," said the blacksmith. " The 
 first to-day," he added mendaciously, as he raised the 
 pewter measure to his lips. 
 
 " Your health, Misther O'Flaherty," responded Terry
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 43 
 
 heartily, " an' may the divil niver blow up his fire for 
 ye. Will ye be round the night? " 
 
 "I will that," answered the blacksmith. "There'll 
 be great crack the night, I believe. I hear there's a ter- 
 rible sough in the town about a brother of Mr. Nor- 
 manby's that's dead in America. But I suppose you 
 have it all long ago ? " 
 
 " I wouldn't doubt but I moight have the most of it," 
 said Terry cautiously. " But what was it ye heard 
 yourself now ? " 
 
 " Och, sure ye know as well as I do myself, Terry," 
 said the blacksmith. " About the brother havin' made 
 a lamentable lot of money in the States out av a gold- 
 mine, or somethin' of the sort, and him leavin' the whole 
 of it to our man here. Now ye needn't be puttin' me 
 off. Wasn't old Mr. Normanby round two or three 
 times with ye about it? I suppose ye could tell the 
 amount to a halfpenny ? " 
 
 " Well, I could not thin," answered Terry. " The 
 ould man was as close as a limpet about it. He ques- 
 tioned me up an' down about the brother, Masther 
 Lawrence that was, an' what port he went to, an' what 
 word there was from him afther he left, an' how long 
 ago it was since he was heard of ; but the sorrow a bit of 
 me could make out what he was afther, an' I pumpin' 
 him all the time. Ye might as well have thried to open 
 an oysther wid an electhroplated fork an' the divil a 
 more onsuitable implement for the purpose do I know. 
 He was undher a strict promise of secrecy, he said, an' 
 troth, for the bewildhered ould dhreamer that he is, he 
 kept it wondherful. 
 
 " But all I could tell him an' I thried him wi' truth 
 an' lies I couldn't seem to satisfy him. He wasn't 
 right plazed with Masther Lawrence bein' in Calfornia, 
 though 'twas there the boy went to right enough. Nor 
 he liked it no betther whin I took him two or three other 
 places round the States ; an' I'd ha' taken him to the
 
 44- MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 Islands of the Blest if I'd thought it'd ha' been any sat- 
 isfaction to the old fellow; but troth, Masther O'Fla- 
 herty, if he's dead an' gone, it's not the same spot that 
 Masther Lawrence is in this minit. 
 
 " An' do ye know all the time it nivcr come into me 
 thick head what he was afther. If I'd had as much 
 brains as a hen could hold in her shut fist I'd have 
 known it was money ; for all his talk was wearin' round 
 to where the brother died, an' whin he died; an' that 
 should ha' put me on the track." 
 
 " I wouldn't fault ye for that, Terry," said the black- 
 smith. " There's two reasons for askin' about the death 
 of your friends. The one is whether you're likely to 
 get anythin', an' the other is to make sure there's no 
 danger of them comin' back." 
 
 " An' troth 'twas the second av the same reasons was 
 likely to be in the minds av Masther Lawrence's friends 
 thin," said Terry ; " for he was a divil's imp if iver there 
 was one. An' if he died worth money 'twas through 
 robbin' some dacent man, or maybe, God knows, a 
 church. But do ye say he has left a fortune? " 
 
 " Millions," said the blacksmith. " Of course," he 
 added, " it may only be dollars. But even when ye 
 divide millions by five there's a deal left." 
 
 " The saints deliver us ! " ej aculated Terry. " Who 
 have ye it from ? " 
 
 " Now it's from the stable," said Denis. He drank 
 the balance of his porter leisurely, enjoying Terry's 
 goggle-eyed curiosity with the tail of his eye. 
 
 " I got it from one of the Bank men, Terry." 
 
 " I have it," said Terry. " I seen ye goin' down the 
 back av the houses with Misther Jackson a half an hour 
 ago. 'Twas him told ye." 
 
 " Oh no, no, not at all," said the blacksmith hastily. 
 " Mr. Jackson knows nothin' about it. As a matter of 
 fact, Terry between you an' me it was the cashier 
 in the other Bank told me."
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 45 
 
 " Was it so? " said Terry. " Well, be me sowl if it 
 comes to ould Berryman's ears about him blabbin' it's 
 the same young gentleman'll be sorry. For if Jackson 
 gets wind of the money he'll be on it like a trout on a 
 Mayfly. Maybe he's on the thrack av it already. He's 
 been makin' up to Miss Nora powerful lately. Anyway 
 if ye got the news from the Bank it's correct 
 
 " I'm sayin', Denis," cried Terry, slapping his thigh. 
 
 "Aye? " said the blacksmith, startled. 
 
 " D'ye moind the Jew man I told ye about a month 
 ago, the wee morsel av misery that looked as if he'd 
 been atin' crickets, an' devoured as much flesh mate as 
 would ha' fed a pack av hounds." 
 
 " Him that tipped ye the sovereign when he was goin' 
 away," said the blacksmith maliciously. 
 
 " He was askin' me a heap av questions about ould 
 Misther Normanby here," said Terry eagerly, not heed- 
 ing the remark. " Up an' down he questioned me about 
 him, an' had he friends abroad, an' the names av thim. 
 Bedambut now, Denis, would he be a lawyer from the 
 States?" 
 
 " By the hokey, Terry," cried the blacksmith, jump- 
 ing up in great excitement, " ye have hit it ! That's 
 who he was ' 
 
 " Terry," he said, breaking off, " bedad there's Mr. 
 Jackson comin' down the road, an' he mustn't see me 
 in here in the daytime. If he's speakin' to ye don't let 
 on ye were talkin' to me. An' don't say a word in the 
 room to-night till I get round." And the blacksmith 
 bolted hastily out by the side door, and made for his 
 forge, eager to finish his day's work and begin the far 
 more congenial task of passing round the unusually 
 choice tit-bit of gossip, fully persuaded of the truth of 
 it, and quite unconscious of having humbugged not only 
 Terry the waiter, but also Mr. Denis O'Flaherty.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 MR. JACKSON'S interview with the draper 
 had not been fruitful. 
 Warned by his disaster with the black- 
 smith he had begun his inquiry with such an exaggerated 
 degree of caution that Mr. Finnegan had entirely failed 
 to grasp the drift of his hints, and fully persuaded that 
 the cashier had merely dropped in to enjoy a little 
 oratory, was soon in full spate. 
 
 The inevitable dissertation on " the unexampled suc- 
 cess of our up-to-date business methods " was expanded 
 by illustrations drawn from a walk round " our various 
 departments." Mr. Jackson passed with increasing 
 temperature of countenance from " our summer goods," 
 where he received, rather shamefacedly, a demonstration 
 of the latest thing in bathing costumes from a young 
 lady little less abashed than himself, to " our blouse 
 department," where the stolidity of the attendant en- 
 abled him to recover some confidence. But an an- 
 guished passage round an angle stacked with corsets, 
 which Mr. Finnegan woidd not ignore, brought the 
 perspiration out on him; and when the draper, with a 
 hardihood bred of long familiarity, landed him plump 
 into the most embarrassing section of " our white 
 goods," Mr. Jackson made wildly for the door, pursued 
 by feminine tittering and the consciousness that his ad- 
 venture would be all over the town before night. 
 
 Safely outside the dreadful precincts of the shop he 
 renewed his campaign, but with no better success. The 
 introduction of Mr. Normanby's name brought forth a 
 deprecatory laudation of Mr. Finnegan's excellences as 
 
 46
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 47 
 
 a churchwarden, with a detailed account of how he had 
 recently repelled an attempt to promote ritualism in the 
 parish, and a rhetorical peroration on the advances of 
 the Scarlet Lady, who, if Mr. Finnegan might say so, 
 was not being sufficiently kept under observation these 
 latter days. 
 
 The utmost Mr. Jackson could extract without direct 
 interrogation was that Mr. Normanby had been making 
 inquiry into the history of a member of the family, 
 whose doings, if Mr. Finnegan dare put it in that way, 
 had best be buried in the silence of the tomb. 
 
 But if the cashier had wasted his time with Mr. Fin- 
 negan he had no such complaint to make of Terry. 
 
 Going through the hotel bar he spent ten minutes in a 
 vain attempt to penetrate Michael's Delphic reserve, but 
 desisted before the landlord had seemingly grasped the 
 fact that Mr. Jackson was having the impudence to try 
 to pump him. The ten minutes were invaluable to 
 Terry. 
 
 Terry's brain, whatever it may have been in its pre- 
 porter days, was not at the time of this history particu- 
 larly fertile in original ideas ; and his observation was 
 somewhat decayed. But for embroidery on a hint he 
 was unexampled in Ireland. 
 
 A whole drama developed before the fascinated cash- 
 ier. The arrival of the stranger, at first barely noticed 
 " For to tell ye the Gawd's truth, Misther Jackson, 
 at the beginnin' I just took him for wan av thim Jew 
 men that does be goin' about suckin' the blood out av 
 poor people like clegs in the worm month " attention 
 first drawn to him by the bundles of papers he kept 
 drawing from his " shiny, wee black bag." " Dhat 
 thick, creeshy-lookin* paper that them fellows does be 
 writin' on, I suppose because they can charge more for 
 it." This, and a " ferrety, lawyer-lookin' counte- 
 nance," that Terry recognized but couldn't just put into 
 words. " * But me foine fellow,' sez I, ' if you're not
 
 48 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 an attorney, me name's not Flanagan.' An' wasn't it 
 sharp av me, too, Misther Jackson, an' him an American 
 attorney. But thim fellows all has the wan look, just 
 like weasels. 
 
 " An' whin I had made out that much, ' Now,' sez I 
 to meself, 'what are ye here for? For if ye're afther 
 some dacent man wid the law it's meself'll give him the 
 office, an' lave ye sittin' on your your behind.' And 
 whin he begin askin' his questions, I knowed where I 
 was. ' It's a legacy,' sez I. ' It's a legacy. Now who 
 the divil would it be for? ' 
 
 " It took him a long time to get the length av Misther 
 Normanby, for whin a man's out lookin' for information 
 if he wanted to go from the parlor here to the bar he'd 
 go round by Denis the blacksmith's shop. Ye know, 
 Misther Jackson ? " 
 
 " I do," answered Mr. Jackson consciously. 
 
 " But directly he mentioned Misther Normanby and 
 the brother Lawrence, ' I have it,' sez I, ' I have it. 
 The brother's dead an' has left him a fortune.' An' 
 right enough, so it was." 
 
 " Did the lawyer tell you that, Terry ? " asked Mr. 
 Jackson eagerly. 
 
 " He did not then," answered Terry, with a wink in- 
 tended to convey the great sagacity of the American 
 attorney. " Whin he seen what I was afther he drew in 
 his horns moighty quick. Very civil and cool he was 
 with me from that till he left, an' the divil a ha'penny he 
 give me goin'. He knowed I'd pumped him to his face, 
 and him a Yankee at that, and he was badly pleased 
 about it." . 
 
 "But how do you know about the legacy, Terry?" 
 asked Mr. Jackson. 
 
 Terry paused for a moment, then leant forward to 
 Mr. Jackson's ear. 
 
 " I have it from Misther Berryman's clerk below, no 
 less. He come here pumpin' me like it might be your-
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 49 
 
 self." Mr. Jackson turned red. " But he's not as fly 
 as you are, Misther Jackson; and he with Misther 
 Berryman so long itself, and I had the whole thing out 
 of him in a twinklin'. ' I'll swap news wid ye,' sez I, 
 when he come at me about the lawyer. ' How much 
 money will there be ? ' 
 
 " ' I hear a million,' says he in a half-whisper, lanin' 
 over to me like I might to yourself here. 
 
 *' * The Saints take care av us ! ' sez I. 
 
 " * Av dollars,' sez he, ' only.' 
 
 " ' But sure,' sez I to myself, ' that's two hundhred 
 thousand pounds.' ' 
 
 Whereupon, appalled by the magnitude of the sum, 
 Terry had resolved to maintain strict secrecy till he 
 had obtained confirmation, and had thrown dust in the 
 eyes of Mr. Berryman's clerk, and persuaded him there 
 was nothing in the story. But when his conversations 
 with Mr. Normanby had convinced him of its truth he 
 resolved to communicate with Mr. Jackson at the first 
 possible opportunity, so that Mr. Jackson's Bank might 
 get their hands on the money. For, God knew, they 
 were the decentest Bank of the two ; and he would rather 
 do Mr. Jackson a good turn any day than that old 
 serpent Berryman, and thank Mr. Jackson very much 
 he would take a pint of porter, for he was as dry as a 
 whistle and hadn't lipped drink that day. 
 
 Before Terry's nose had emerged from the pot of 
 porter, Mr. Jackson was well on his way to the Bank, 
 fairly bursting with news. 
 
 The door was opened to him by Jane, the manager's 
 housekeeper and general servant, an old retainer who 
 had watched over her Master Anthony's infant career 
 as nursemaid, and after an interregnum of unfortunate 
 marriage, widowhood, and letting of lodgings, had as- 
 sumed control of his middle age with increased autoc- 
 racy of spirit. 
 
 Jane was one of those devoted housewives who, being
 
 50 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 wholly intent on keeping her house scrupulously clean 
 and neat, was generally herself very untidy and dirty. 
 A perpetual black smear on her forehead was closely 
 connected with a lock of hair that continually fell across 
 her eyes and required to be continually adjusted. Even 
 her Sunday face never wanted it. Only a close observer 
 of form could have told that it was not the smear of the 
 last time he had seen her before, or of twelve months 
 ago. Unfortunately for Jane her husband was a man 
 of aesthetic sensibilities, and ran away from home for 
 good after the first clear revelation of the domestic Jane 
 as distinct from the Jane of courtship. The manager, 
 partly from use and wont, and partly because he was a 
 philosopher and recognized that beauty is only for a 
 day, while a good cook lasts for a lifetime, was unmoved 
 by her appearance and only too glad to secure her for 
 a housekeeper; and Jane had remained with him 
 since the date of her domestic calamity, although she 
 had been set free for a second venture by the death of 
 the fastidious wanderer. 
 
 Her unlucky experience with one man had not at all 
 soured her with the sex. Her Master Anthony she 
 regarded as little short of perfect, and any good-looking 
 young fellow such as Mr. Jackson was sure of her favor. 
 
 She opened the door to him in a state of great ex- 
 citement. 
 
 "Is that you, sir?" she said. " Come on in. The 
 master'll be delighted. He's in the great feather with 
 himself, clean leppin' out of his skin. His ould Uncle 
 Joseph died the day before yesterday, and the word's 
 just in by this evenin's post. Aye, I think he left him 
 money. Who else would he leave it till? Come on up 
 to the sittin'-room. The master's sittin' there by him- 
 self with a bottle of champagne wine before him wishin' 
 he was in Belfast till he'd get some of his chums in to 
 drink it and wish him luck. Watch the bucket ; I was
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 51 
 
 just givin' the hall a wee wash step on the mats. Do 
 you wish him luck when you go in. It'll please him. 
 
 " Here's Mr. Jackson, Master Anthony," called Jane 
 as she opened the door. " Go on now, Mr. Jackson," 
 she whispered, nudging him in the ribs with her elbow 
 as he passed her. 
 
 She listened with a broad grin of satisfaction to the 
 cashier's hearty congratulations of his manager before 
 closing the door, and then descended to the washing of 
 the hall with fresh vigor.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 SIX thousand pounds," said the manager. " Take 
 another little drop of fizz. It's a tidy little sum, 
 Jackson, eh?" 
 
 " You're jolly lucky, sir," said the cashier. He 
 sighed. " I envy you." 
 
 " I know what you're thinking of, Jackson, my boy," 
 said the manager. " If I were ten years younger I'd 
 be thinking of the same thing. But it's come too late. 
 That's how the world goes. When you're a faded old 
 bachelor like me somebody'll likely leave you money too." 
 
 " Oh, come, sir," protested Jackson. " You're not 
 so old as all that." 
 
 " Thirty-eight the day before yesterday," sighed the 
 manager. " Too old for sentiment. And my hair's 
 going too. Do you see that little peninsula jutting out 
 into my forehead? There were sixty-five hairs in it a 
 month ago ; now there are only fifty-nine. I'll be as 
 bald as a coot in a year's time. Picture to yourself a 
 fly lighting on my shining cranium just as I dropped on 
 my knees to a girl. No, Jackson, my dear fellow. Too 
 late. ' Talk not to me of romance, I wear flannel,' 
 somebody has said. It sums up the situation as far as 
 I'm concerned. It's all up with me. I'm doomed to be 
 a lonely old bachelor all my days. ' Similis factus sum 
 pellicano solitudinis, sicut nycticorax in domicilio.' ' I 
 am like a pelican in the wilderness, like an owl of the 
 desert,' or as Miles Coverdale more strikingly renders 
 it, ' like an owl in a broken wall.' And in the end," said 
 the manager, somberly pouring himself out a fourth 
 glass of champagne, " I suppose I'll die in a nursing- 
 home." 
 
 52
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 53 
 
 Mr. Jackson looked discreetly sympathetic, but did 
 not venture on a remark. 
 
 " Well, well," said the manager, " I'll always have my 
 books." 
 
 " And a jolly lot of them you have, sir," said Jack- 
 son, looking round the room. 
 
 " Too many," answered the manager moodily. " I'd 
 been married long ago but for my unfortunate taste for 
 them. I was as good as engaged to a girl once a 
 feather-headed little thing she was, but pretty. Gad," 
 said the manager, brightening up, " she was as pretty 
 as a fairy." 
 
 " And what did you do, sir ? " asked Jackson anx- 
 iously. 
 
 " I told her the truth," said the manager, relapsing 
 into gloom, " a most indiscreet thing to do when you're 
 courting. They find out the truth about us time 
 enough. I told her I'd like to be married if it was only 
 to have a home for my books. It was a jolly good job 
 anyhow; the last time I saw her she was eleven stone 
 if she was an ounce. I've never had any confidence in 
 the future of a girl's figure since. 
 
 " Then I fell out with one of the nicest girls I ever 
 had because she didn't like * Martin Chuzzlewit.' I 
 thought I couldn't love a girl who didn't like * Martin 
 Chuzzlewit.' 
 
 " I was wrong, too," continued the manager. " I 
 read ' Martin Chuzzlewit ' five years later, and found I 
 had changed my mind about it." 
 
 "And did you not go to the girl, sir?" asked Mr. 
 Jackson. 
 
 " I did," answered the manager mournfully. " But 
 when I saw the girl I found I had changed my mind 
 about her too." 
 
 " Maybe if you'd married her five years before you 
 wouldn't have changed your mind," said Jackson, hold- 
 ing on desperately to romance.
 
 54 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 " Maybe not," acquiesced his chief. " But at my age 
 one sees the risk. A youngster like you rushes blindly 
 into matrimony, but we old fellows look before and after. 
 But don't listen to my words of wisdom, my dear Jack- 
 son. Miss Nora's a very pretty girl. Here's to her 
 very good health. Take another little drop of fizz. 
 By the way," said the manager suddenly, " am I misled 
 by the combined effects of Plutus, represented by my 
 uncle's six thousand pounds, and Bacchus in the shape 
 of four glasses wait till I make it five of excellent 
 champagne, or did I send you out to ascertain the truth 
 about your prospective father-in-law's fortune?" 
 
 The manager listened to Mr. Jackson's recital with 
 judicial gravity. 
 
 " There seems to be no doubt about the fortune, sir," 
 concluded Jackson, " if we only could make sure of the 
 amount. It's a pity we hadn't all this information when 
 Mr. Normanby called to-day. Would you think of writ- 
 ing him to-morrow to say he could have any advance he 
 might require? I think it would be judicious, sir." 
 
 The manager remained in deep thought for some 
 moments. 
 
 " I have been holding communion with five glasses of 
 champagne, Mr. Jackson," said he at length. " The 
 first four are very much of your opinion, and the fifth is 
 quite enthusiastic about it. That's good so far as it 
 goes. But I haven't any great degree of confidence in 
 the opinion of a glass of champagne ; and the whole fam- 
 ily after the fourth are little better than fools. 
 
 " So I think we'll leave the matter over till the morn- 
 ing; and you and I will slip away to some place where 
 there isn't any champagne say the office below 
 and we'll talk it over by ourselves. Did you ever hear 
 of the ancient Germans, Mr. Jackson?" inquired the 
 manager. 
 
 " I never heard much about the Germans at all," an- 
 swered the cashier, " before the present Emperor."
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 55 
 
 " Well, the ancient Germans 
 
 " Look here, Jackson, my boy," said the manager, 
 leaning back in his chair, and regarding his cashier be- 
 nevolently. " I'm going to provide you with a beacon- 
 light for our future intercourse: when I begin to quote 
 from the classics take the bottle away from me. The 
 occasion won't often arise. Many years ago I prom- 
 ised a very decent young fellow one Anthony Wild- 
 ridge, a bank clerk that I'd never drink any intoxi- 
 cant but champagne ; and that, Mr. Jackson, is coming 
 as near teetotalism for a bank clerk as one can very well 
 get. But, whenever I do lapse, in the interests of dis- 
 cipline, which is at present suffering damnably 
 bear in mind what I say. If you had removed the bot- 
 tle about ten minutes ago, about the time of that pelican 
 in the wilderness of which I was speaking, I wouldn't 
 be inflicting the ancient Germans on you now. 
 
 " The ancient Germans, Mr. Jackson," went on the 
 manager, recovering the thread of his discourse, " were 
 of the opinion that the ordinary man in the street 
 or, as they would doubtless have said, in the woods, has 
 a deal more sense when he's drunk than when he's sober ; 
 and so they used to debate any serious matter in both 
 conditions. 
 
 " But drunk," said the manager, " it's my opinion 
 that the aged Terence is no better than a false witness, 
 and that I should part with no money till the story is 
 confirmed; and I'll be very much surprised if I'm any 
 more enthusiastic about it in the morning. I know the 
 frame of mind I'll be in to-morrow morning. When 
 you become a manager, Mr. Jackson, and have a request 
 for an overdraft placed before you, if you wish to at- 
 tain a reputation with your directors for caution and 
 sagacity, consider the question on the morning after a 
 champagne night. If you have a stomach like mine 
 you'll not err on the side of rashness. 
 
 " Now with regard to the business on hand how do
 
 56 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 you stand with Miss Normanby? If your relations 
 with her haven't advanced beyond the point when it 
 would be mean or indelicate of you to attempt to pump 
 her, in my present state of judgment that seems to be 
 the quarter for information. If it's only a matter of 
 acquaintanceship between you, or even flirtation, I see 
 nothing to hinder you sounding her cautiously. But, 
 of course, if it's what a misguided young fellow like you 
 would call love " 
 
 The manager raised his right eyebrow and blinked 
 across inquiringly at his junior. 
 
 " Well, upon my soul, sir," said Jackson, " I'm not 
 just exactly sure how we stand." 
 
 " That's interesting," said the manager, brightening 
 up. " That's decidedly interesting. Look here now, 
 Jackson, my boy. I'm a veteran, retired from the 
 game, a looker-on. But I've had some experience in my 
 time. Not an ounce of romance left in me. Just calm 
 disillusioned judgment. Now I tell you what we'll do. 
 We'll open another bottle of champagne that's a 
 clear duty ; I drank the last three glasses, and never at- 
 tended to my uncle's memory at all you'll put the 
 circumstances of your unfortunate case before me, and 
 I'll place the ripe experience of, let me see, I began 
 about thirteen thirteen from thirty-eight of twen- 
 ty-five years at your disposal. What do you say 
 now ? " 
 
 " I think, sir," said Jackson apologetically, " we'll 
 not need to open the second bottle." 
 
 " Well, just a small one then," said the manager, 
 dexterously nipping the wire. 
 
 " Come on now. You give me the facts and I'll tell 
 you where you stand, to a hair's-breadth. First of all as 
 to your own position ; of course you're in love with Miss 
 Normanby. Don't turn so red, Jackson, it's not only 
 not unusual, it's inevitable. At your age a young fel- 
 low is just a well-spring of pure affection if he's been
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 57 
 
 anyway well brought up. The only possible chance of 
 his escaping love and early matrimony is for him to dis- 
 tribute his affection fairly widely, say among three or 
 four, and that in your case is impossible. In a merely 
 academic way I've been inquiring into the matter, and I 
 find that Miss Nora is the only really presentable-look- 
 ing girl in the town. 
 
 " You know, Jackson, my son," continued the mana- 
 ger, setting down his champagne-glass after a linger- 
 ing interview with it, " until a bank clerk is thirty it's 
 positively sinful to send him to a country town of under 
 two thousand in population. After years of patient re- 
 search into the subject I have figured it out that the pro- 
 portion of physically attractive girls in the upper mid- 
 dle classes is as one to five hundred of the whole popu- 
 lation. In a town of two thousand inhabitants your 
 bank clerk has the possible four pretty girls to squander 
 his affections among, which is sufficient to prevent his 
 bestowing on any individual girl what you might call a 
 matrimonial share. Observe your misfortune: we're 
 just about one hundred people short of the two-girl fig- 
 ure in this town. The second might arrive at any mo- 
 ment. But in the meantime there's only one ; and 
 you're in love with her, and before the second comes on 
 the scene will probably be engaged. 
 
 " You will notice that I eliminate entirely the summer 
 visitor girl, from her very quantity utterly negligible; 
 a mere ephemera ; the resident damsel's best asset in 
 fact. The season is over, the summer ended, the inevit- 
 able blank comes. The young man's affections, stimu- 
 lated by all these transitory creatures, concentrate on 
 the one permanent girl about October ; and he's as good 
 as done for. I should say you fell in love with Miss 
 Normanby about let me see now, the season here runs 
 to the middle of September the first of October. 
 Eh?" 
 
 " I took an awful fancy for her the first time I ever
 
 58 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 saw her," said Jackson with enthusiasm. " Wait till 
 you meet her yourself, sir." 
 
 " No danger, my dear boy," returned the manager. 
 " I'm an icicle, an extinct volcano. Not that I hadn't 
 my little weaknesses in that line," he went on compla- 
 cently. " I can look back on them now that I've out- 
 grown them, as Horace confound Horace, that's 
 opening a second bottle of fizz but you know what he 
 says : ' Nee lusisse pudet . . .* 'I can lick my lips,' 
 says he, ' over my little sprees, now that I know I've 
 learned sense.' I'm safe from the infection now. But 
 to return to your affair. How do you stand with the 
 lady ? Have you declared your passion, as they used to 
 put it in the novels of my callow taste, or do you still 
 sigh in silence? Look here, my boy," cried the mana- 
 ger, breaking in on himself, " don't look so woebegone. 
 Here, begad, we'll split the tail-end of the bottle. Come 
 now, report progress." 
 
 " Well, the fact is, sir," stammered Jackson, " she 
 and I are awfully thick, downright good chums, and all 
 that ; but if I mention sentiment at all she just laughs at 
 me." 
 
 " That's no new experience," returned the manager, 
 " and by no means an unhopeful one. Look now, Jack- 
 son, lay hands on the Ark of the Covenant, kick the 
 manager who has been placed in authority over you if 
 he ever mentions Horace again, but just for this once 
 let me refer you to the fifth ode of the second book. He 
 must have been thinking proleptically the figure," 
 said the manager, with a slight hiccup, " is called pro- 
 lepsis or anticipation of your case : 
 
 " ' Circa virentes est animus tuce 
 
 Campos juvencce,' and so on ; ' jam te sequetur.' 
 
 * Don't mind if your sweetheart is inclined to play the 
 giddy garden goat at present,' says he, or words to that
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 59 
 
 effect ; * when she takes seriously to courting you'll be 
 tired of it before she will.' 
 
 " The whole passage is tinged with Roman coarse- 
 ness, Mr. Jackson, I regret to say ; and the figure of a 
 heifer does not commend itself to our modern taste. 
 Burns has the same thought much more charmingly in 
 'My love she's but a lassie yet ' ; but one should never 
 quote Burns on anything but whisky. Champagne's all 
 right for a dilettante like Horace ; but Burns demands 
 the real stuff in love and drink. 
 
 " But we seem to be drifting away again from the 
 matter in hand. Take an old fellow's advice, my son," 
 said the manager solemnly, " and don't wish for your 
 sweetheart to be sentimental. A sentimental sweet- 
 heart at seventeen is a confoundedly jealous wife at 
 forty. And don't be too sentimental yourself. A lit- 
 tle calf-love I don't seem to be able to get away from 
 the farmyard simile and a boy and girl kiss or two. 
 By the way " the manager looked a little archly 
 across the table " have you ever ? " 
 
 " I never got the chance, sir," answered Jackson. 
 
 *' One seldom gets the chance, Mr. Jackson," returned 
 the manager ; " it's generally a question of making 
 one. But didn't you say something one day about leav- 
 ing certain persons home by that delightfully shady by- 
 path to the Rectory known as ' Sweethearts' Lane ' ? " 
 
 " Just a couple of times, sir," said Jackson hastily. 
 
 " It looks remarkably like two opportunities," re- 
 turned the manager, " remarkably like. About dusk, I 
 think you said ? " 
 
 " Only one of the times, sir," protested Jackson. 
 
 " I may be wronging the young lady," said the man- 
 ager, " but in my opinion the girl who walked up that 
 lane at dusk with a young man had made up her mind 
 to run the risk of being kissed. I don't say she would 
 have let you, mind ; but I rather think she would be sur- 
 prised that you didn't try."
 
 60 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 "But," objected Jackson ruefully, "she might have 
 been wild at me if I had tried." 
 
 " Very likely," said the manager ; " but better so 
 than that she should be disappointed with you for not 
 trying. And you would at any rate know where you 
 were. You know the excellent golf maxim about put- 
 ting: ' Never up, never in.* You might do worse than 
 apply it to your courting. 
 
 " However, I don't think you're a very bad case yet. 
 If you were you'd have kicked me out of the window 
 long ago. I will consult Anthony Wildridge and cold 
 water in the morning; but the opinion of the said An- 
 thony and the lion's share of a bottle and a half of dry 
 champagne is that you may without any breach of the 
 laws of the game of courting try to find out from Miss 
 Nora Normanby the reality and extent of her father's 
 windfall." 
 
 "You don't think, sir," said Jackson anxiously, 
 " that she'd imagine it was on my own account." 
 
 " I don't think she would, my boy," said the mana- 
 ger, warmly shaking his cashier's hand. " I don't 
 think anybody would that knows you. And now, Mr. 
 Jackson, we've not emptied our glasses yet, and we'll 
 drink to the memory of my Uncle Joseph. I haven't 
 seen him for ten years ; but he's done me a good turn. 
 I wish he needn't have died to do it. But nothing short 
 of death would have parted my Uncle Joseph and his 
 money. He was an unfortunate old bachelor like my- 
 self, Mr. Jackson," said the manager pensively, from 
 the top of the stairs. " Upon my soul, my boy, I think 
 you'd be wiser after all to make a fool of yourself about 
 a girl. By one path or another we all come to folly in 
 the end." 
 
 " I beg your pardon, sir," said Jackson nervously 
 from half-way down the stairs, " but I think it might be 
 safer if you put the lamp back on the dining-room 
 table."
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 MR. JACKSON'S way home led him past Mi- 
 chael Brannegan's, and personal dignity had 
 a long struggle with curiosity and a share of 
 two bottles of champagne before it prevailed on him to 
 avoid the temptations of Michael's bar-parlor, where 
 Mr. Jackson very well knew gossip would shortly be in 
 full spate on the rumor of Mr. Normanby's sudden 
 wealth. 
 
 The cashier's interview with his manager had lasted 
 little over an hour, and already the extent and diversity 
 of the rumor would have astounded any one but a 
 dweller in a smallish seaside town. 
 
 William Rankin, the cobbler, seated in the window of 
 his little shop, half-soleing a boot with an assiduity that 
 the uninitiated would have thought precluded him from 
 observing anything but his awl and waxed-end, had 
 seen Mr. Jackson calling at the Bank. 
 
 Now it was quite natural that Mr. Jackson should be 
 seen passing in and out of the Bank premises between 
 the hours of ten and four ; but why should he be going 
 in between six and seven? It wasn't half-yearly bal- 
 ance time the cobbler knew very well, for that came 
 later in the year. Besides it was Mr. Jackson's invari- 
 able practise before returning for his evening's late 
 work to smoke a cigarette in the cobbler's shop. This 
 enabled him to defer his return to toil to the last possi- 
 ble minute, and gave him an opportunity of explaining 
 to Mr. Rankin how much harder a bank clerk had to 
 work than a cobbler. It was clear that Mr. Jackson 
 could not be working late. 
 
 61
 
 62 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 Maybe, mused the cobbler, he was merely going to 
 call on the manager. But the cashier had never been on 
 visiting terms with the late manager and his family. It 
 was understood that a cashier was lower in the social 
 scale than a manager. As a cashier he was in the ranks 
 of commerce: it was only when he became a manager 
 that he acquired professional status. Mr. Berryman's 
 cashier was, indeed, occasionally invited to afternoon 
 tea, but then, in the opinion of many, Mr. Berryman was 
 hardly up to usual managerial standards, and it was 
 remembered in the town, though Mrs. Berryman had 
 forgotten it, that his wife's father had been in the groc- 
 ery business. 
 
 But the wife and daughters of Mr. Wildridge's pre- 
 decessor had never recognized the cashier socially. 
 Maybe, the cobbler reflected, waxing his thread medita- 
 tively, the new manager was more easy-going, and 
 didn't intend to stand so much on his dignity. If that 
 were so, pursued the cobbler's thought, he might be will- 
 ing to wear country-made boots, and not send for them 
 to Belfast like the late manager and his family. 
 
 And, of course, the new manager was a bachelor and 
 would need some company of an evening till he had made 
 a few friends. It was all quite plain. Mr. Jackson 
 had merely dropped in for a chat. 
 
 But all the same the cobbler wasn't perfectly satis- 
 fied. And although to all outward seeming he was 
 working away furiously without a thought except about 
 the boot between his knees, in reality a little maggot of 
 unsatisfied curiosity was eating away busily at the back 
 of his brain. 
 
 His frenzy of boot-repairing began to slacken. He 
 began to bore his awl-hole with more deliberation, and 
 the final tug on his waxed-end was wanting in convic- 
 tion. At last he laid down the boot on which he had 
 been working, opened the door into his little hall by jab- 
 bing his awl into it, and thrusting out as much of his
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 63 
 
 head as was possible without falling bodily off his stool 
 called to his wife in the kitchen : " Sally, Sally, 
 what'd Mr. Jackson be away into the Bank at this time 
 of night for?" 
 
 His wife looked up from the face she was washing 
 without the consent of its owner, a small boy of four, 
 and came into the hall with a concerned expression of 
 countenance. Her husband descended from his stool 
 and joined her. 
 
 " Is he just gone in there now, William? (Stop that 
 cryin', ye wee brat, or I'll go back an' warm your ear. 
 Eh? Well, rub the soap out of your eyes then; 
 haven't ye hands on ye?) I wonder what'd be up," she 
 continued to her husband, gazing over his shoulder at 
 the Bank. 
 
 " It's queer him goin' in there as far on in the day as 
 this an* no late work on nor nothin'," returned her hus- 
 band. 
 
 The pair contemplated the Bank door in silence for 
 as long as would have sewn on one side of a half-sole; 
 but no inspiration came to them. 
 
 " I'll tell ye what I'll do, William," said Mrs. Rankin, 
 reaching behind her for the knot of her apron ; " I'll 
 run down the length of Mary Molloy's an' hear if 
 there's anything on in the town." 
 
 " Aye, do," said the cobbler, " an' I'll go in an' finish 
 them boots I'm at. It'll take me all my time to get 
 them done before dark; an' they're wanted in the 
 mornin'. Don't stand gostherin' there all night." 
 
 " I'll be back in the shakin' of a lamb's tail," an- 
 swered his wife, hastily hanging up her apron on one 
 nail and reaching down a shawl from another. " Hold 
 on till I cuff these children to bed." And having driven 
 the denizens of the kitchen to universal lamentation in 
 the upper regions of the house, she departed joyfully on 
 her mission, leaving the cobbler debating with himself 
 whether it would be worth while to resume work before
 
 64 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 she came back, a problem which he settled by lighting 
 his pipe and continuing to prop up the front door. 
 
 Long after a well-brought-up lamb would have ceased 
 shaking its tail and gone to bed, Mrs. Rankin returned, 
 astutely dodging her husband's wrath by beginning her 
 story while she was still about twenty yards away. 
 
 With the help of her friend Mrs. Molloy she had 
 traced Mr. Jackson's movements since he left the Bank 
 at four o'clock with wonderful accuracy, practically 
 nothing having escaped notice but the blacksmith's sur- 
 reptitious pint at Gerahan's ; but as his refreshment at 
 Michael's was multiplied by three, the story was a pint 
 of porter to the good. 
 
 The collecting of the facts had taken little time; it 
 was in the drawing of deductions from them, or as Mrs. 
 Rankin expressed it, " putting two and two together," 
 that the delay had taken place. 
 
 The final theory of the cronies, assisted by a council 
 of friends collected during the investigations, was that 
 the blacksmith being in money difficulties and having 
 failed to meet a bill when it came due, Mr. Jackson un- 
 der pretense of having a dog's tail docked had gone 
 down to dun him; and that the blacksmith not being 
 able to pay, Mr. Jackson had called on Mr. Finncgan, 
 his surety on the bill, to demand payment, and had re- 
 turned to the Bank to report progress to the manager. 
 It was also agreed that the blacksmith having begun to 
 drown care with three pints of porter in Michael Bran- 
 negan's would certainly send out for a further supply 
 of liquid, and was likely by this time blind drunk. 
 
 This last hypothesis, just before Mrs. Rankin's de- 
 parture from her friends, had been raised to a certainty 
 by the contribution of a late-comer, one Mrs. Robinson, 
 who had heard that the blacksmith's wife, finding her 
 man lying in the corner behind the forge fire, had in her 
 rage lifted a shovelful of red coals from the forge fire
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 65 
 
 
 
 and thrown it about his legs, utterly ruining a pair of 
 new moleskin breeches. 
 
 The cobbler was quite content with his wife's inter- 
 pretation of the Jackson incident, and as it was ob- 
 viously not worth while sitting down to work on a pair 
 of boots that he couldn't finish that night, had just de- 
 cided to retire to the kitchen and discuss the new topic 
 with his wife, when Rumor, in this case personified by 
 James Robertson, the postman, wafted the first intel- 
 ligence of Mr. Normanby's good fortune into his door. 
 
 But James, with a piquant bit of gossip to deliver all 
 over the town, as well as the evening mail, hadn't time 
 to convey more than the bald outlines of the story to the 
 cobbler, who determined to seek the fountain head at 
 once, and set out for Michael Brannegan's, marching 
 down the middle of the street, and ignoring the little 
 groups that had formed in every few doorways all along 
 the postman's wake. His wife, too greedy for gossip 
 herself to oppose his going, watched his departing figure 
 enviously, and hoped without much hope that he might 
 return home sober enough to be able to tell her the 
 news.
 
 AS the cobbler made his way to Michael's he laid 
 down his plan of campaign in the forthcoming 
 maneuvers with Terry, and like a prudent 
 general first of all took stock of the sinews of war, 
 which he found amounted to two shillings and three 
 pence. He was well aware that for the purpose of ex- 
 tracting information a frontal attack was vain. The 
 obvious strategy was a flank movement, supported by 
 heavy artillery in the shape of pints of porter; and a 
 brief calculation satisfied him that the funds at his dis- 
 posal were ample. He might, it is true, be obliged to 
 call in an ally; but then a judiciously selected ally 
 would contribute to the expenses of the campaign. He 
 marched forward, satisfied that victory was already 
 within his grasp. 
 
 But, like many another general, he had not considered 
 the value of moments. While he had been detained by 
 the reconnaissance conducted by his wife, his plan of 
 campaign had been put into operation by more active 
 assailants; and the enemy completely overwhelmed. 
 Unfortunately, as not infrequently happens, the very 
 completeness of the victory was the undoing of the vic- 
 tors, and the utter prostration of the foe had left him 
 without the power of paying a war indemnity. In other 
 words, to drop the military metaphor, the gossips of 
 Portnamuck in their anxiety to extract information 
 from Terry had filled him so full that he wasn't able to 
 tell them anything at all, and by the time the cobbler 
 arrived on the scene was lying speechless under the hotel 
 stairs in the recess usually reserved for boots. 
 
 66
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 67 
 
 But the cobbler's greatness of soul was not to be 
 overcome. He calculated his resources again, reflected 
 that after all a cobbler was as good as any other man, 
 and determined to risk the higher price of drink and the 
 frowns of the regular habitues, and boldly to penetrate 
 into the bar-parlor. 
 
 Here he found an unwonted state of disorder. The 
 regular members of Michael's parliament had assembled 
 earlier than usual in consequence of the news ; Mr. 
 Finnegan had discovered, before the complete overthrow 
 of Terry, that Michael had driven out to his farm to 
 inspect some cattle, and fired with the notion of achiev- 
 ing fresh oratorical honors had hastily declared the as- 
 sembly a convention for the purpose of debating the 
 good of the community, and voted himself into the chair. 
 A wholesome respect for his landlord's tongue and brain 
 had prevented him from usurping the leather arm-chair 
 sacred to Michael's bulk. This had been wheeled into a 
 corner, and from one of the smaller wooden arm-chairs 
 provided for customers Mr. Finnegan was, when the 
 cobbler entered, engaged in delivering his seventh ora- 
 tion, which, it may be added, was also the seventh ora- 
 tion of the evening. 
 
 But it must not be assumed that the chairman had 
 secured an entire monopoly of speech during the meet- 
 ing. The respectful and even humble silence that at- 
 tended Michael's remarks had by no means been ac- 
 corded to the usurper. 
 
 The melancholy seedsman had found time to put forth 
 quite a series of Cassandra-like prophecies of the results 
 of taking any action whatever to enlist Mr. Normanby 
 in further schemes for the good of the town, his prog- 
 nostications including an utter absence of sunshine in 
 the following year, the failure of harvest, and the conse- 
 quent ruin of the farming interest, and of all those, es- 
 pecially seedsmen, who were indirectly depending on 
 agriculture.
 
 68 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 Mr. Sharpe had reiterated at ten-minute intervals his 
 willingness to take five hundred one-pound shares in any 
 rational commercial enterprise, provided the directorate 
 was kept free from windbags and hypocrites, and barked 
 forth with increasing pungency his opinion of persons 
 who were more ready to put their hands in other peo- 
 ple's pockets than in their own; and Mr. Denis O'Fla- 
 herty, even more fluent than usual by reason of his po- 
 tations in the afternoon, had contributed a running 
 commentary of such point and vigor on sallowness of 
 complexion, loquacity, and the incompatibility of a high 
 standard of rectitude with the chronic imbibing of 
 whisky punch, that nothing but the blacksmith's size and 
 a recollection of the abnormal consumption of moleskin 
 breeches incident to his trade could have restrained the 
 chairman from assault and battery. 
 
 But in spite of all the interruptions the chairman 
 had dominated the meeting. In an assembly where 
 every man was determined to say or do nothing that he 
 couldn't back out of afterwards, the mere appearance of 
 initiative created by assumption of the chair gave a cer- 
 tain preponderance among the unreflecting. 
 
 The more knowing ones, among whom may be counted 
 the blacksmith and Mr. Sharpe, were not deceived. But 
 it suited them admirably that Mr. Finnegan should be 
 in the chair. Mr. Sharpe, though prompt enough to 
 act for himself, knew his fellow-townsmen well enough to 
 be aware that if he took any action involving them he 
 would be left in the lurch in event of failure; and the 
 blacksmith concealed under his garrulity and love of fun 
 a large vein of caution. With Finnegan in the chair 
 they knew they were safe. He had engrafted on a nat- 
 ural taste for chairmanship a smattering of procedure 
 gleaned from a shilling handbook, and reveled in mo- 
 tions, resolutions, amendments, adjournments, and all 
 the formulae that enable assembled mankind to avoid 
 doing anything in particular.
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 69 
 
 On the present occasion Mr. Finnegan had outshone 
 himself. With each successive speech a longer vista of 
 office had opened before him, and in his eighth discourse 
 he was in the middle of outlining a series of meetings, 
 extending over several weeks, in which no business could 
 possibly be transacted, when the door of the bar-room 
 flung back violently, and Michael elbowed past the side- 
 posts and stood within surveying the company with a 
 suspicious and lowering glare. 
 
 Mr. Finnegan instantly saw the moments of his chair- 
 manship numbered, but with a temerity that nothing but 
 his passion for the dignity could have inspired, made a 
 desperate effort to retain office. 
 
 " You have doubtless heard, Mr. Brannegan, the news 
 of the phenomenal good fortune of what I may call one 
 of our most distinguished fellow-citizens. We have con- 
 stituted a little meeting here, and our friends, subject, 
 of course, always to your approval, have in your absence 
 done me what I must call the great honor of appointing 
 me to the chair " 
 
 But Michael, whose visage had been purpling omi- 
 nously, listened no further. Three strides carried him 
 across the creaking floor. He caught the shrinking 
 Finnegan by the coat collar. 
 
 " Up with ye," he cried in a voice of thunder, twitched 
 him out of the chair, and flung himself heavily into it. 
 
 Half a dozen friendly voices were raised in warning, 
 but they were too late. The arms of the chair creaked, 
 cracked, yielded a little, but in the end stood firm. 
 Michael was hopelessly wedged. 
 
 For about a second he did not realize his disaster, and 
 swept the room with a mingled stare of inquiry and 
 consternation. Then a half-strangled bellow of rage 
 burst from him. His huge chest heaved and strained. 
 His great thighs expanded with effort ; his heels spurned 
 to the floor. A second warning, this time in a shout, 
 was a second time too late. The chair tilted back,
 
 70 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 paused majestically on its hind legs for a breathless 
 instant, and the next Michael's vast bulk, adorned with 
 the fragments of a wooden arm-chair, was being dragged 
 off the breathless carcase of the unfortune cobbler who, 
 conscious of his lack of standing in the room and dread- 
 ing Michael's tongue, had stolen behind Mr. Finnegan's 
 back in the hope of avoiding observation. 
 
 A few good Samaritans carried the cobbler out to the 
 street door; but the majority of the company crowded 
 round Michael with foreboding sycophancy. 
 
 It was in vain. When Michael was hoisted to his feet 
 he motioned feebly for his leather arm-chair, and sank 
 into it with a suddenness that almost brought about a 
 second disaster. Then he drew half a dozen deep 
 breaths, glared furiously at the ring of anxious faces 
 bending over him, and pointed to the door. 
 
 " Get out," he gasped apoplectically, " all of you 
 this minute." 
 
 Consternation fell on the room. To leave at eight 
 o'clock, and with such a tit-bit to discuss. It was 
 monstrous. But who was to bell the cat? All eyes 
 turned to Mr. Finnegan, the cause of the disaster. He 
 trembled, and almost turned tail. But there were at 
 least half a dozen customers among his victims. 
 
 " Oh now, Mr. Brannegan " he faltered. 
 
 But the landlord's usual supply of breath had re- 
 turned to him. The spoons jingled in the tumblers and 
 the tumblers danced on the tables at his bellow : 
 
 " Get out to blazes the whole pack of ye or if I 
 rise " 
 
 Nobody waited to hear the conclusion of his threat. 
 In the twinkling of an eye the bar-parlor was empty. 
 The sound of Michael's footsteps in the passage cleared 
 the bar a moment later. In a few more seconds the bar 
 door slammed noisily; and for the first and last time in 
 the history of Portnamuck Mr. Michael Brannegan's
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 71 
 
 Family Hotel and saloon bar was closed at the incredible 
 hour of eight o'clock. 
 
 A few of the regular frequenters hung about the door 
 vainly hoping that Michael might relent. The dismal 
 forebodings of the cobbler's wife were gratified by the 
 spectacle of the remainder conveying her husband home 
 in his customary limp condition at an abnormally early 
 hour. 
 
 The convoying party formed the nucleus for an as- 
 sembly that speedily overflowed the cobbler's kitchen. 
 The cobbler was still too much overcome by his disaster 
 to take his share in the proceedings ; but his wife eagerly 
 drank in all the variations of Terry's porter-inspired 
 imaginings ; and when Rumor set out on her task at 
 dawn the next day she derived no little assistance from 
 the efforts of Mrs. Rankin.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 THE following morning, as soon as the books 
 had been brought out and the usual corn- 
 minatory service subsequent to the reading of 
 the Head Office Letter duly performed, the manager re- 
 opened the subject of the previous night's discussion 
 with his cashier, judiciously suppressing any reference 
 to the practise of the ancient Germans. 
 
 " I have been turning over in my mind, Mr. Jackson," 
 said he, " the information you brought me last night, 
 and I'm inclined to regard it with as much suspicion as 
 you do yourself." 
 
 Mr. Jackson, who had a considerable leaning towards 
 belief in Terry's story, was seduced by the manager's 
 diplomatic ending into declaring that he thought the 
 whole story a pack of lies. 
 
 " In the meantime," said the manager, " we'll act as if 
 it was, anyhow." 
 
 " But don't you think there might be something in it, 
 sir," went on the cashier, recovering his own standpoint 
 a little. " It came through the other Bank, and they 
 must have believed it. And I think there has been some 
 kind of a foreigner over inquiring about Mr. Normanby. 
 There must be something in it, sir. There's no smok 
 without fire." 
 
 " You'd have said that if you'd seen my dining-room 
 ceiling this morning," said the manager. " I thought I 
 asked you to turn down the lamp when we were leaving 
 the room. But no matter," went on the manager, 
 waving down Mr. Jackson's incipient protest, " we'll say 
 nothing about it. You were a bit flustered last night, 
 
 72
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 73 
 
 weren't you? Maybe I pressed you a little too hard 
 about a certain young lady. But really, Mr. Jackson, 
 I think that there is the only reliable source of informa- 
 tion. It would be difficult and indiscreet to question her 
 father; but his daughter is sure to know all about the 
 fortune, if there is a fortune. She runs the house, and, 
 as far as I can learn, she runs the old gentleman too 
 a circumstance, my young friend, very well worth your 
 taking account of in another connexion. A tendency to 
 blush, Mr. Jackson, is embarrassing, but creditable. 
 Don't regret it, my dear fellow. When you've outgrown 
 that you'll have outgrown a good many other things 
 more worth regretting. As I was saying, Miss Nor- 
 manby can tell us what we want to know, and if it doesn't 
 go against your conscience, what with her prepossession 
 in your favor and a talent for diplomacy that I was 
 pleased to observe in you last night, you are the man to 
 approach her." 
 
 " You are sure, sir, she wouldn't think " said 
 Jackson hesitatingly. 
 
 " Now didn't I tell you," returned the manager. 
 " Besides, in a way it's up to you to know where you are. 
 The girl is penniless, and you are no millionaire. You 
 don't happen to possess a reserve of wealthy uncles, do 
 you?" 
 
 " Divil a one, sir," answered Jackson. " They've all 
 too big families." 
 
 " Ah, well," said the manager, " a man can't provide 
 you with cousins and leave you a fortune as well. And 
 a pretty girl cousin is not to be despised. They're use- 
 ful too. I took the edge off my appetite for courting 
 with one or two of mine. It's like field maneuvers. It 
 gives you valuable experience before you encounter the 
 real enemy. To return to our subject though. By the 
 way, I have observed in you, Mr. Jackson, a regrettable 
 tendency towards digression." The manager bore his 
 subordinate's reproachful look unflinchingly, and went
 
 74 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 on : " Situated as the pair of you are, the very most 
 you can allow yourself as a man of honor is three 
 months' philandering. Longer would be to do an injus- 
 tice to the girl. But supposing you do ascertain that 
 she is an undoubted heiress, you can open the flood-gates 
 of your affection without scruple, and if her father's 
 wealth doesn't gain him enough influence to have you 
 promoted to a cashiership somewhere in Connemara be- 
 fore things come to a crisis, I may live to bow you and 
 your bride out to your carriage. It's a little attention 
 I always pay to wealthy customers. Come now, if 
 there's anything of the Sherlock Holmes in you, both 
 love and duty call you to summon it forth." 
 
 " You're chaffing me, sir," said Jackson doubtfully. 
 " But, hang it, I'll see what I can do." 
 
 " This afternoon, eh? " questioned the manager. 
 
 " Well, sir, Nbra comes up the street about half-past 
 ten for the morning paper, and she looks in here occa- 
 sionally if " The cashier paused in embarrass- 
 ment. 
 
 " If ? " asked the manager. 
 
 " If I look out over the wire blind well, it shows 
 that the coast is clear," blurted out the cashier. 
 
 " It's twenty-five minutes past ten now," said the 
 manager. " Hold on till I get my hat. I have a most 
 important errand across in the seedsman's that will 
 probably last me till Miss Normanby has transacted her 
 business in the Bank. Now I'm right. And, Mr. Jack- 
 son," said the manager, glancing back between the swing- 
 ing doors, " if I should be needed in the meantime you 
 can oh well, you can look out over the wire blind." 
 
 Left to himself the cashier made a hasty raid into the 
 lavatory for the official mirror and a piece of soap, with 
 the joint assistance of which he smoothed down his hair 
 to his satisfaction and drew out the ends of his mustache 
 into stiff points. Then he carefully straightened his 
 tie, changed back from his office coat into his out-of-
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 75 
 
 doors one, and, after a last fleeting glance at the mirror, 
 took up his stand at the window looking out into the 
 street. 
 
 From this he was dislodged by the entrance of two 
 customers with lodgments. He checked these with a 
 celerity that would have promoted him to the head office 
 counter had the proper persons been observing him, dis- 
 missed his clients with courteous if pointed " Good 
 mornings," paid a small cheque to a country woman 
 (losing threepence of commission in his hurry during the 
 process), and was back at the window just in time to 
 catch the eye of Miss Nora Normanby as she looked 
 over her shoulder for the last time before concluding 
 that the coast could not be clear. 
 
 She waved an unabashed salutation to him with the 
 half-open newspaper, dashed tempestuously across the 
 road, and next moment was within the Bank doors radi- 
 ant with the sense of convention defied. A less impres- 
 sionable young man than the cashier might well have 
 believed that a fresher breath of morning entered with 
 her. 
 
 First of all she wrinkled a very straight little nose in 
 a grimace of inquiry towards the manager's desk; and 
 then, on receiving a reassuring nod from Mr. Jackson, 
 vaulted dexterously on the counter, and sat there swing- 
 ing her legs with the air of one very much at home. 
 
 " I thought the old frump must be in the Bank when 
 I didn't see you at the window. Why weren't you look- 
 ing out? " 
 
 Mr. Jackson explained. " But look here," he went 
 on aggrievedly, " you've never said good morning to me 
 yet." He grasped her hand and pressed it tenderly. 
 
 " Look here, Jacks," said Miss Normanby, " don't 
 stand there looking like a sick cat. And why on earth 
 can't you say good morning without squashing my ring 
 into my fingers? Listen. I haven't very much time 
 this morning. I want to ask you what's he like? "
 
 76 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 " Who? " asked Jackson. 
 
 " Him," answered the young lady, jerking her thumb 
 in the direction of the desk behind. " The new one." 
 
 " Oh, an awfully decent chap," said Jackson with 
 enthusiasm. 
 
 "Better than old Cross-patch?" demanded Miss 
 Normanby. 
 
 " Worth a dozen of him," returned the cashier. " A 
 different man altogether, young and jolly." 
 
 " Young, is he? " said Miss Normanby, with increased 
 interest. " I thought all bank managers were old and 
 cross. What age?" 
 
 "About thirty-five," answered Jackson, loyally sup- 
 pressing three years. 
 
 " Good gracious," said Miss Normanby with scorn ; 
 " call that young ! Why, it's old enough to be my 
 father. But is he really jolly and good-natured, or are 
 you only pulling my leg? " 
 
 '* Oh, honor bright he is," answered Jackson. " He's 
 not a bit solemn like old " 
 
 " Cross-patch," interrupted the lady. " Sour old 
 beast. I hated him." 
 
 " This man's not like that at all. He's up to any 
 amount of fun." Mr. Jackson recalled some of his 
 chief's persiflage and reddened slightly. " You'll like 
 him immensely, really you will." 
 
 " Is he the sort of man you could ask a favor from? " 
 
 " The decentest soul alive," declared the cashier. 
 " Why do you want to know ? " 
 
 But Miss Normanby was leaning back against the 
 partition that screened the cashier's desk from the pub- 
 lic gaze, looking far into the distance, and tapping ab- 
 stractedly at a ravishing little chin with the forefinger 
 of her right hand. A student of character would have 
 perceived that, despite her vivacity, some little portion 
 of her father's day-dreaming spirit had descended to 
 her.
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 77 
 
 But Mr. Jackson was occupied with other matters. 
 By raising her right hand Miss Normanby had created 
 an orifice between the curve of her waist and the parti- 
 tion before-mentioned. The cashier had long forgotten 
 the mission entrusted to him, but a portion of his man- 
 ager's discourse of the preceding night flashed across 
 his mind. His heart thumped furiously at the thought 
 of a great possibility. His right arm rose from his side, 
 curved a little : he hesitated, plucked up courage again. 
 If there had been room for his arm the thing was as 
 good as done. 
 
 Miss Normanby, awakened from her reverie by a 
 tickling in the small of her back, looked down hastily and 
 perceived the hand and a portion of the wrist of Mr. 
 Jackson projecting beyond her blouse. The young 
 man's passion for stiff cuffs had been his undoing. 
 Further progress was impossible. 
 
 It was a humiliating position. Mr. Jackson felt it 
 so, withdrew his arm hastily, and stood looking as fool- 
 ish as a young man could look. He felt desperately 
 that nothing but an air of assurance and a few words of 
 easy confidence could carry off the situation, but for the 
 life of him he couldn't utter a syllable. 
 
 Miss Normanby, however, was neither perturbed nor 
 amazed. She merely looked at the cashier with an air 
 of mild surprise. 
 
 "What on earth do you think you're doing?" she 
 asked. 
 
 If Mr. Jackson had known anything to do other than 
 looking foolish he would have done it, but he didn't. 
 
 " You don't mean to say, Jacks," pursued Miss Nor- 
 manby, " that you're beginning to get sloppy. Were 
 you actually trying to put your arm around my 
 waist?" 
 
 "I say, Nora, you're not mad at me, are you?" 
 stammered Mr. Jackson. 
 
 " Not a bit," answered Miss Normanby cheerfully.
 
 78 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 " It seems a very silly proceeding to me ; but if you 
 think it will do you any good, I don't mind. Here, I'll 
 sit forward a little. But don't pull me about. I want 
 to think." 
 
 It is not to be supposed that Miss Normanby was 
 quite so unconscious of the cashier's rather timid caress 
 as she affected to be; but to all appearance she was 
 plunged into abstraction again. 
 
 Placing one's arm around a young lady who " wants 
 to think " is, however, a disappointing business ; and 
 after an embarrassed interval Mr. Jackson withdrew his 
 arm again. 
 
 "Have you quite done?" inquired Miss Normanby 
 politely. Then, settling herself comfortably against 
 the partition again : " Now about the manager." 
 
 " Oh, hang the manager ! " said Jackson with some 
 heat. 
 
 " I don't care a fig," returned Miss Normanby ; " but 
 not till I've done with him. I want to speak to him 
 about a little matter of business, particularly if he's as 
 nice as you say he is. Look here, Jacks, do you think 
 he's the sort of man to do a favor for a young lady 
 who's prepared to talk very nicely to him, and has got 
 her good clothes on? I was coming in later on, but I 
 wanted to find out from you first how the land lay. 
 Did you notice my new blouse? Good gracious," she 
 cried in alarm, " I hope you blotted your pen-finger be- 
 fore you put your arm round me ! " 
 
 " I never ink my fingers," answered the cashier with 
 dignity. 
 
 " I do, then," returned Miss Normanby, " right up 
 to the knuckles. But what do you think about the 
 manager ? Would he " 
 
 " I say, Nora," interrupted Jackson softly ; " talk 
 nicely to me and I'll do anything you wish." 
 
 " Would you? " cried Miss Normanby, sitting round 
 suddenly and beaming dazzlingly on the cashier.
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 79 
 
 " You're a real sport." Then her smile faded, and she 
 looked dubious. " But you're only the cashier." 
 
 Mr. Jackson's slender stock of prudence had vanished 
 before her smile. 
 
 " Sure I can do anything for you that the manager 
 can," he protested rashly. 
 
 " Honor bright? " demanded Miss Normanby. 
 
 " Of course," answered Mr. Jackson a little weakly. 
 
 " Jacks," cried the young lady with enthusiasm, " I 
 wish I'd known days ago what a dear you are." She 
 adroitly avoided an enveloping movement of the cash- 
 ier's arm. "Now don't be sloppy for a moment. 
 Look, Jacks, I want the loan of fifty pounds ; and you 
 mustn't ask me what I'm going to do with it. It'll only 
 be for a few weeks, and then I'll let you know what it 
 was for. I don't want you even to tell the manager if 
 you can help it. And I'd like it in Bank of England 
 notes. Do you keep Bank of England notes in Ire- 
 land?" 
 
 Mr. Jackson seized on the query as an excuse to gain 
 time. "Bank of England notes?" he inquired feebly. 
 " Wait till I see if I have any." He moved to his note- 
 drawer and began to grope among the contents, his 
 brain a chaos. " What a hole I'm in," he thought 
 wildly, " what a hole ! Why, oh why did I make such a 
 silly statement ? " 
 
 For Mr. Jackson had suddenly dropped from among 
 the rosy clouds of romance into the gray world of busi- 
 ness, where the advancing of money is the privilege of 
 the manager alone, and where a pair of blue eyes and a 
 tangle of yellow curls, however desirable in themselves, 
 have very little value as security. To give the money 
 was an impossibility. 
 
 On the other hand, to refuse it or to admit his lack of 
 authority to give it was humiliation bitter and crushing. 
 To face the scorn in Miss Normanby's eyes for months, 
 perhaps even years, was more, he felt, than he could
 
 80 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 endure. If he could only beg, borrow, or steal -*- for a 
 frantic moment the last expedient flashed through his 
 mind; but no, such a sum was utterly beyond his re- 
 sources. With anguish Mr. Jackson looked backward 
 on a long vista of canes, breast-pins, sleeve-links, ciga- 
 rettes, and fox-terrier pups fifty pounds' worth twice 
 told and cursed his extravagance. What on earth 
 was he to do? But no answer came to him. His hands 
 wandered aimlessly among the notes, as he still fought 
 desperately for time; and in his ingratitude he cursed 
 the friendly delay of his manager. His banker's soul 
 cried out for some one on to whom to shift the re- 
 sponsibility. If only the manager would come back ! 
 
 At the same moment there dawned on him a recollec- 
 tion of his chief's instructions, and a possible means of 
 escape. The manager must return shortly. He would 
 fill up the interval by sounding Miss Nora about the 
 rumored fortune. 
 
 " Come along now, Jacks," she broke in on his medita- 
 tion. " Don't be all day. There's no use letting the 
 manager catch me here when I don't need to see him." 
 
 " I say, Nora," began Jackson, " why won't you tell 
 me what you want the money for? " 
 
 " Just because I won't," returned Miss Normanby 
 decisively. " If you want me to talk nicely to you 
 you've got to trot out that fifty pounds without any 
 questions." 
 
 " But when we're such good chums," protested the 
 cashier. "You ought to have more confidence in me 
 than that." 
 
 " You ought to have enough confidence in me to let 
 me have the money without asking a lot of questions. 
 Come along, trot it out. Mind you, Jacks," said Miss 
 Normanby airily, " if you don't, I know who will. The 
 cashier in the North-Eastern Bank is an awfully nice 
 fellow, and real badly gone on me; and I can just talk 
 as nicely to him as to you, if it's necessary."
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 81 
 
 " But look here, Nora," went on Mr. Jackson, wildly 
 eyeing the clock, " you must be chaffing me. You can't 
 really need fifty pounds, and you coming into a fortune 
 some of these days." 
 
 Miss Normanby sat up sharply. 
 
 "Who told you that?" she demanded. "What do 
 you know about it ? " 
 
 " Sure, it's all over the town," answered Mr. Jackson 
 uneasily. " I heard the report days ago. Isn't it 
 true? A lot of money that was left to you or your 
 father by your uncle who died in America." 
 
 Miss Normanby glared at the cashier with incredu- 
 lous indignation. 
 
 " Do you mean to say, Jacks, that you're having the 
 impudence to try and pump me, before you'll give me 
 the money ? " she demanded. 
 
 Even in his dismay Mr. Jackson was thrilled by the 
 flashing of the angry blue eyes ; and he knew that only 
 seconds divided him from utter rupture with the owner 
 thereof. He glanced in added desperation at the clock 
 and stammered some deprecatory words. 
 
 Miss Normanby sprang down from the counter and 
 faced the cashier across it in towering anger. 
 
 " See here now, Jacks," she cried, " I'll have no more 
 of this humbugging. Answer me straight out. Will 
 you give me that fifty pounds or will you not ? " 
 
 Anguish filled the cashier's soul. But there was no 
 help for him. 
 
 " I can't do it, Nora," he said despairingly ; " that's 
 the truth. I can't possibly do it." 
 
 " But you told me a minute or two ago you could," 
 said Miss Normanby. 
 
 " I didn't think it was money you wanted," protested 
 Mr. Jackson feebly. 
 
 " And what did you think I wanted from a bank ? " 
 asked Miss Normanby. " A pound of tea, or a side of 
 bacon? You might invent a better excuse than that,
 
 82 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 Mr. Jackson," she said, turning scornfully towards the 
 door. 
 
 Mr. Jackson's gorge rose against his manager. Why 
 had he placed an unfortunate cashier in such a position 
 of misery and humiliation? It was a shame, a shame; 
 and Mr. Jackson would stand it no longer. Loyalty, 
 even his loyalty, had its limits. 
 
 " Nora," he cried appealingly, " Nora, listen to me 
 for a moment. I can explain." 
 
 Miss Normanby paused irresolutely at the door, then 
 came back slowly to the counter. 
 
 " Go on," she said coldly. " I'm listening to you. 
 But be sharp about it." 
 
 " Well, it's like this," began Jackson hesitatingly. 
 Even yet, he felt, the manager might appear and suc- 
 cor him. " In an ordinary way I can do quite a lot of 
 things on my own responsibility." 
 
 " Could you give me fifty pounds? " interjected Miss 
 Normanby. 
 
 " Quite a lot of things," went on Mr. Jackson, avoid- 
 ing the thrust. " And you know I'd do anything in the 
 world I could for you." 
 
 "No soft soap, Jacks," snapped Miss Normanby. 
 " Get on with it." 
 
 " Well, it's like this," Mr. Jackson stammered. 
 
 " I know," said Miss Normanby. " You've said that 
 before." 
 
 " It's only when the manager hasn't definitely for- 
 bidden me to do a thing." ( " He did tell me we must 
 act for the present as if there was no fortune," said Mr. 
 Jackson to his conscience, " and I'd like to know what 
 else is that but forbidding me.") 
 
 Miss Nora Normanby gripped the edge of the counter 
 tightly with both hands even in his agony Mr. Jack- 
 son noticed that one of her little finger-tips showed 
 white through the torn glove with the intensity of her
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 83 
 
 grasp and bent forward across the counter. And if 
 she had been angry before, she was furious now. 
 
 " Do you mean to tell me " she stuttered with indig- 
 nation " that the manager had the impertinence to 
 hint that I was likely to be in want of money, and that 
 you weren't to give it to me. Tell me " she stamped 
 her foot " tell me when I ask you." 
 
 " It wasn't about you, Nora," began Jackson. 
 
 " Or dad either," she cried. " Is my dad not honest? 
 Oh, you cads, you pair of cads ! No, I don't blame you ; 
 you're only a bank clerk. But wait, wait and see if I 
 don't pay your manager out. And I'll go straight down 
 to the North-Eastern Bank now, and find out whether 
 Mr. Berryman has forbidden his cashier to lend Mr. 
 Normanby and his daughter money. And when we do 
 
 come into our fortune " Miss Normanby's dignity 
 
 suddenly left her as she noted the momentary expression 
 of curiosity that crossed the cashier's anguished fea- 
 tures. She not only drew a grimace but thrust out her 
 tongue. 
 
 " Ha ha ! " she mocked. " You thought you were 
 going to find out something for your sneak of a mana- 
 ger. But you won't find out till it's too late. And I'll 
 be even with him more than that, too ; you see if I don't. 
 You tell the old beast to look out, that's all ! " 
 
 A tempest of skirts and yellow curls swept through 
 the Bank doors and almost overwhelmed the entering 
 manager on the steps. 
 
 Heedless of his hat, which was busy trying to attain 
 stable equilibrium in the dustiest corner of the porch, 
 the manager, happily ignorant of her destination, stood 
 gazing after Miss Normanby's flying figure. 
 
 Seemingly her indignation had not long interfered 
 with her spirits. Fifty yards down the street she 
 swooped down on a small child grubbing in the roadway, 
 bore it with a yell of triumph arm-high above her head
 
 84. MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 into a place of safety, and then comforted the alarmed 
 youngster's fears with a halfpenny disinterred from a 
 miscellaneous collection of rubbish out of the pocket 
 of her skirt. The startled mother, running to the door, 
 smiled to find it was " only Miss Nora," and returned 
 a delighted curtsy to an airy wave of the hand from the 
 young lady, then half-way down the street, stalking old 
 Henry Adams, the town bellman, to whom she admin- 
 istered a smack on the shoulder that nearly made him 
 swallow his clay pipe. The remaining portion of the 
 street she covered walking backwards, in peals of de- 
 lighted laughter at the old man's spluttering indigna- 
 tion, and then disappeared round the corner in hot 
 pursuit of a stray cat. 
 
 The manager picked up his hat slowly and entered the 
 Bank, pensively brushing off the results of his encounter 
 with Miss Normanby. 
 
 Mr. Jackson braced himself for the inevitable ex- 
 planation ; but the manager spoke first. 
 
 " By Jove, Jackson," he said, " that's a lovely girl. 
 I've just been watching her go down the street, and she 
 moves like a young goddess. She's as lithe as a panther, 
 and as straight as You remember how Ulysses com- 
 pares Nausicaa to ' a young sapling of a palm-tree 
 springing by the altar of Apollo.' Ever read the 
 Odyssey ? No ? Much wiser not. You'll be a far bet- 
 ter banker. But that's what came into my mind. * A 
 young sapling of a palm-tree.' We don't worship 
 Apollo nowadays, Jackson, my son, but, by Gad, we 
 have as pretty girls as ever lived in ancient Greece ! 
 Pass me over yesterday's cash-book." 
 
 The manager devoted himself alternately to medita- 
 tion and long tots while Jackson attended to a small 
 spurt of customers, and then resumed his subject with 
 an air of rather more detachment. 
 
 " It's a great matter, too, Mr. Jackson, to have 
 reached a middle period of life, when one can regard a
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 85 
 
 vision like that purely as an amateur, without a trace of 
 either desire or envy. I can look on with a merely 
 benevolent interest at your little affair. By the way, 
 had you any luck in the inquiry I suggested to 
 you?" 
 
 Mr. Jackson reflected swiftly whether it would be 
 possible to conceal what had happened, or whether he 
 had better make a clean breast of the disaster. He con- 
 cluded that there was nothing for it but to tell all, then 
 took fright and began to temporize. 
 
 " There's no doubt, sir," he said, " that there is 
 money coming to the family." 
 
 " Well done," said the manager. " I knew you were 
 the man for the job. You didn't happen to find out 
 the amount ? " 
 
 " I wasn't able to manage that, sir," answered Jack- 
 son, with the air of one of whom too much was being 
 asked. 
 
 " Or any hint as to the source ? " inquired the man- 
 ager. 
 
 " She was very very reticent," stammered Jack- 
 son, dropping his pen and picking it up to obtain an ex- 
 cuse for his scarlet face. " The fact is, sir, she rather 
 resented my asking. I think it was a mistake to ask 
 her," he went on quickly, beginning to see a glimmer of 
 daylight. " She seemed to be quite " 
 
 The long-suffering doors flung back to their widest 
 and clashed together again hastily, doubtless in the hope 
 of embracing Miss Nora Normanby. But she was al- 
 ready in the middle of the floor executing a war dance 
 with a crumpled handful of white paper brandished 
 above her head. 
 
 " Do you see that, Jacks," she chanted. " Do you 
 see that ? Fifty pounds, and without any airs and ques- 
 tioning and humbug. He didn't even wait to be talked 
 nicely to. But I'll do it all the same, if it's only to 
 spite you. And you can tell your old fossil of a man-
 
 86 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 ager that there's no need to forbid you to give money to 
 the Normanby's, for they can get " 
 
 At this stage of her paean Miss Nora became aware of 
 the presence of Mr. Wildridge, and for perhaps the first 
 time in her life showed signs of being disconcerted. Six 
 months before she would have merely altered the direc- 
 tion of her eloquence ; but dawning adolescence was upon 
 her and she stood tongue-tied and scarlet. In a mo- 
 ment, though, youth rallied. For an instant the charm- 
 ing features concentrated into a grimace of indescribable 
 mischief and triumph, the next, with a peal of delighted 
 laughter, she was gone. 
 
 The manager gazed after her with an air of mingled 
 bewilderment and something not unlike admiration, and 
 then turned to Mr. Jackson, who was totting his cash- 
 books with unusual assiduity. 
 
 " It seems to me," remarked the manager dryly, 
 " that you have been rather more er reticent to me 
 than to Miss Normanby." 
 
 The unhappy cashier swallowed several times. This 
 time he let his pen drop involuntarily. 
 
 " I was just leading up to the story, sir," he faltered, 
 "when " 
 
 " When Miss Nora plunged in medias res. Far 
 the best way to tell a story, Mr. Jackson provided 
 you mean to tell it, eh? But never mind, let me have 
 it now." 
 
 He listened to the cashier's recital in silence. 
 
 " I suppose you are aware, Mr. Jackson," he said 
 with some severity, " that not only the granting but the 
 refusing of loans belongs to the manager solely." 
 
 " I know, sir," protested Jackson ; " but you had 
 practically said that no loan was to be given." 
 
 " I didn't instruct you to convey that to Miss Nor- 
 manby though. Did I, Mr. Jackson? " 
 
 " No, sir," admitted Jackson. 
 You see, my dear Jackson," went on the manager 
 
 ..
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 87 
 
 tolerantly, " experience sometimes gets the better of 
 youth, even in matters of love; and when it comes to 
 finance youth gives place altogether. In this little 
 campaign it was my intention to use you as a skirmisher, 
 and to conduct the main attack myself; and you have 
 committed a grave error of judgment in forestalling me. 
 You will understand that I mean to convey a reproof," 
 continued the manager more seriously. 
 
 " I'm very sorry, sir," said Jackson, " really I am. 
 I know I've made an awful mess of the whole business. 
 To tell the truth, sir," he said, telling the exact opposite 
 in an effort to rehabilitate his character, " I thought it 
 would get you out of a hole if I refused her." 
 
 " It wouldn't be the pleasantest task in the world," 
 admitted the manager ; " but it's not the pleasant part 
 of my work that I'm paid for. And, by Jove, Jackson, 
 I don't know how you had the heart to do it. Ten 
 years ago I could hardly have done it myself. Gad, 
 when I think of the pair of blue eyes she has in her 
 head just sparkling with fun and mischief and vital- 
 ity. I wish you every good fortune, Jackson, my boy ; 
 but I'm not sure that it's a bank clerk's job. A glori- 
 ous creature like that deserves something better than a 
 mere quill-driver. It's ranging the plains of the West 
 she was intended for, not frowsing over scandal tea- 
 parties in a country town. At present there's some 
 compatibility between you, but where will you be beside 
 her when you've polished an office-stool for ten years. 
 Look at me, for example " and the manager waved 
 an expressive hand " and I've been a bit of an athlete 
 in my time: two stones too heavy now and growing 
 quite flabby. I must get out my gloves again. Can 
 you box, Jackson ? " 
 
 " I've never tried, sir," answered Jackson cau- 
 tiously. 
 
 " Do you swim then, or play cricket or football or 
 hockey anything active? "
 
 88 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 " I've not done much in that line since I came to the 
 country," said Jackson. 
 
 " What on earth do you do then," cried the manager, 
 " to keep yourself a man ? " 
 
 " I'm very fond of a dog," said Jackson sheepishly. 
 " I go out ratting a good deal." 
 
 " Excellent exercise for the rats," answered the man- 
 ager, " but not much for you. If you can't do better 
 than that I'll not let you have her." 
 
 " I've dished myself with her, anyhow," said the cash- 
 ier mournfully. 
 
 " Not a bit of you," answered the manager. " We'll 
 both recover the lost ground. But do you stick to the 
 love and I'll look after the banking. Do you know 
 what it is, Jackson, my son? It's well that I've come to 
 the age of philosophy and common sense, or I'd be 
 tempted to look after both ends of the job myself." 
 
 Mr. Jackson smiled inwardly, and forbore to mention 
 Miss Normanby's declaration of war.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 FOR the next few days the great Normanby 
 rumor suffered a lull. In twenty-four hours 
 at the hands of the experienced gossips of 
 Portnamuck it had gone through all the permutations 
 and combinations possible in the absence of fresh infor- 
 mation, and fresh information was not to be had. Mr. 
 Jackson was drawn several times and proved a blank. 
 The natural inference was that he knew a great deal 
 more than he would tell; that, however, was at best a 
 negative result and gave little satisfaction. True, the 
 cobbler had seen Miss Nora's movements about the 
 Bank; but then Miss Nora had been a good deal about 
 the Bank lately. Then her visit to the opposition 
 Bank transpired, and some were of opinion that this 
 indicated a rebuff to Mr. Jackson's firm. Mr. Berry- 
 man, however, when sounded, turned out not merely un- 
 communicative but actually surly, and that to a quite 
 considerable depositor. An immediate triumph for him 
 was clearly out of the question. The general assump- 
 tion was that he was engaged in a struggle with Mr. 
 Wildridge for the new business, and had found Mr. 
 Jackson a lion in the path. 
 
 Mr. Sharpe, appealed to, was concise as to the duty 
 of minding one's own business; the seedsman yielded 
 nothing but dark hints that nothing fortunate could 
 happen to the town of Portnamuck since he might indi- 
 rectly profit by it, and made obscure references to the 
 prophet Jonah. The blacksmith was referred to by a 
 local epigrammatist as talking a good deal, but not say- 
 ing very much; and Mr. Finnegan refused to discuss 
 
 89
 
 90 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 anything at all but his grievance against the landlord of 
 the hotel, a spot which he declared in various forms of 
 circumlocution he would never enter again. 
 
 It was observed, however, that after three days' pen- 
 ance on inferior whisky he began once more to pay his 
 nightly visits to Michael's ; and one or two daring ir- 
 ruptions of the non-elect into the bar-parlor were re- 
 ceived so coldly by the landlord and an assembly evi- 
 dently interrupted in an important discussion, that it 
 was shortly concluded that great events were pending, 
 but that Michael's authority was being exercised with 
 even more than usual severity to prevent the public re- 
 ceiving their meed of news. 
 
 There was talk among the more fiery spirits of a 
 transfer of business to the house of Gerahan, but unfor- 
 tunately for the proprietor not even by the very e3> 
 tremity of politeness can a man add ten years to the age 
 of his whisky. The verdict of the connoisseurs went 
 against him^ and the seceders returned to the Family 
 Hotel to try pumping Terry. But Terry proved ut- 
 terly dry even after the customary expedient of pouring 
 in a little liquid, and explained the reason to some of his 
 cronies. 
 
 " I've had the divil's own row wid the boss, boys," he 
 said, " an' all through lyin' down in the well av the stairs 
 the other night for a wink av sleep whin I was tired; 
 an' small wondher too, me runnin' up an' down the 
 same stairs like a shadow on the walls. I was all right 
 if I'd brought in me feet wid me, but I left thim out in 
 the passage, an' the big man comin' back in a rage from 
 clearin' the bar 'twas the night he had the word or two 
 wid Misther Finnegan the dhraper bedambut he fell 
 over thim an' took three bannisthers an' eighteen inches 
 of the rail out av the stairs thryin' to save himself 
 fallin', an' with it all near brained himself on the skirt- 
 in'-board av the far wall. 'Twas a marcy he did, for 
 the dunt he got clean bamboozled him, an' they had to
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 91 
 
 put him to bed on the parlor sofa, for he could hardly 
 walk, and the divil a less than a steam-crane would ha' 
 hoisted the same carcase up to the first floor. 
 
 " But whin he got at me in the mornin', he mesmerized 
 me, I'm tellin' ye. An' whin he found out in the coorse 
 av the day that it was all through a bit av information 
 I'd been givin' to wan or two like yourselves that ould 
 Finnegan got the start av him, he was like a guldherin' 
 elephant, stampin' about the house. I could tell ye 
 plenty, boys ; but it's not me place I'd be losin' if I did, 
 it's me life. There's big men that's that easy-goin' an' 
 good-natured the sting av a wasp would only break them 
 into a smile ; but a wicked big man's a holy terror, an' 
 bedambut himself's wan av the wicked wans." 
 
 Not even porter availed to move Terry from his vow 
 of silence. For ten miles or more round the town of 
 Portnamuck Rumour flew along the main roads with 
 added swiftness on market days and made her way 
 slowly but persistently on foot up by-lanes and glens ; 
 but in the town itself after a week or so she may be said 
 to have slept, albeit with one eye open. 
 
 All the manager's blandishments failed to induce his 
 cashier to face Miss Nora again ; and when he resolved 
 to take the matter into his own hands and call on Mr. 
 Normanby, he was nonplussed by the news that the old 
 gentleman had contracted a feverish cold, and was not 
 likely to be seen about for at least a fortnight. 
 
 In the meantime Miss Nora brooded revenge. Jack- 
 son she forgave readily enough, partly on account of 
 recent comradeship, and partly because she realized his 
 subordinate position. His temporary assumption of an 
 authority he did not possess she set down to her influ- 
 ence over him, and counted rather a virtue. The man- 
 ager was in her eyes the real offender ; and the momen- 
 tary embarrassment she had suffered under his gaze was 
 an added wrong to avenge. Before the manager's of- 
 ficial dignity she had felt herself a schoolgirl again ; and
 
 92 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 only a schoolgirl's attempt to overturn his dignity oc- 
 curred to her at last. 
 
 The manager had just settled to his after-dinner pipe 
 one evening, and Jane had just settled to a good scrub- 
 bing of the kitchen oilcloth, when a knock came to the 
 hall door. If we suppose Jane's face to be the map of 
 the world, and British possessions to be colored black, 
 she added to the Empire a continent at least as large as 
 Africa in a hasty attempt to rub away a smudge of 
 which she was particularly conscious, and ran to open 
 it. She found on the steps Miss Nora Normanby laden 
 with a large basket. 
 
 " If you please," said the young lady hurriedly, " will 
 you give this basket of plums to Mr. Wildridge with Mr. 
 Normanby's compliments. And will you take it straight 
 up to him now just at once. It's most important. 
 Mr. Normanby wishes him to get them immediately. 
 You won't forget," said Miss Normanby rather breath- 
 lessly, turning to go down the steps. " Take them 
 straight up now. I saw him in the dining-room." And 
 without waiting for an answer she plunged down the 
 steps and vanished. 
 
 Jane carried the basket thoughtfully to the kitchen, 
 and setting it down in a chair regarded it with strong 
 disapproval. 
 
 " I wonder now," she communed with herself "I 
 wonder now what she's up to. Why should she be in 
 such a hurry about the basket goin' up to him when she 
 didn't wait to hear what he said? You'd think it was 
 something they were givin' Master Anthony. A wheen 
 o' plums, green trash too, I'm sure. I suppose she 
 thought I'd maybe eat them. An' nosin' about the 
 place, too, lookin' where he was " 
 
 A dreadful uneasiness assailed Jane. Was it possible 
 that after having apparently outgrown the skittishness 
 of youth and settled into secure bachelorhood, Master 
 Anthony was looking after the girls again? At any
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 93 
 
 rate this looked as if the girls were looking after him. 
 She recalled Miss Normanby's confusion, her anxiety 
 that the basket should go straight to the manager's 
 hands, and a horrid thought entered her mind. Could 
 there be a note concealed in the basket? But she would 
 soon find that out. The kitchen table was encumbered 
 with a large tray of unwashed dinner dishes. She 
 seized the tray and turned towards the pantry. 
 
 At this moment a large rat nosed its way out from 
 the leaves covering the basket of plums, and dropped 
 with a thud on the kitchen floor. 
 
 Jane looked over her shoulder hastily ; the rat and she 
 stared at each other for a couple of seconds in a mutual 
 paralysis of terror; but Jane recovered first. High 
 above the catastrophe of his dining-service her shriek 
 simultaneously reached Mr. Wildridge in the room above 
 and Miss Nora Normanby on the opposite pavement. 
 
 During Jane's meditation, Miss Normanby had been 
 contemplating on the blind the shadow of the peaceful 
 smoker in the dining-room, at first with hope, and then 
 with disgust as she realized that her oriders had not been 
 carried out, and that her little plot was in danger of 
 failure. She knew the habits of her pet rat too well to 
 hope that his curiosity would let him remain long in the 
 basket after it had come to rest. Her last hope van- 
 ished with Jane's outcry and the crash of delf. The 
 crash was some consolation to her. 
 
 " At any rate," she thought, " there's some of his 
 dishes broken ; and he'll get a bit of a shock yet. He's 
 sure to run down and see what has happened." 
 
 But the manager was a very placid person when his 
 pipe was smoking sweetly, and he showed no signs of 
 moving. 
 
 He had heard both the crash and the shriek. 
 
 " Bad luck to the old girl," he thought, " that sounds 
 like half the dishes in the pantry. I'd better pretend I 
 haven't heard. Thank heaven and my Uncle Joseph I
 
 94 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 can buy more." And he settled himself in his chair 
 again. 
 
 But the first piercing shriek was succeeded by a series, 
 interspersed with sharp yelps. The manager distin- 
 guished his own name. 
 
 " Confound it," he said, rising hastily, " I suppose she 
 has cut the foot off herself. All right, Jane, I'm com- 
 ing," he cried as he hurried down the stairs. 
 
 Miss Normanby immediately rushed across the road 
 and took up her station under the kitchen window, which 
 opened on the street, and waited gleefully for his advent, 
 quite unmoved by the anguished cries of Jane. She was 
 never given to do things by halves ; and in her con- 
 demnation of the manager included his whole household. 
 In addition she had resented Jane's suspicious looks at 
 the door. 
 
 Her only regrets were, first, that she wasn't able to 
 see the fun as well as hear it ; and, secondly, that she had 
 no companion with whom to divide the enjoyment. 
 Even her long legs failed to hoist her up to the window- 
 sill; and she thought regretfully of her rupture with 
 Jackson, and reflected that she couldn't share the joke 
 with him next day. 
 
 Meantime things were moving swiftly in the kitchen. 
 The rat, after a narrow escape from being annihilated 
 by a falling soup-tureen, made up his mind that the 
 kitchen in the circumstances was no place for him, and 
 started for the door into the hall. Unhappily Jane 
 started for the door at the same instant. The rat was a 
 winner from the first, and would have easily made his 
 escape but for his enemy the soup-tureen, which had in- 
 dustriously anointed the line of Jane's retreat. Up 
 flew Jane's heels ; she shot across the remaining distance 
 and hurtled against the half-open door, cutting off the 
 rat's retreat and a portion of his whiskers at the same 
 time, so narrow was his second escape from destruction. 
 What passes in a rat's mind must necessarily be difficult
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 95 
 
 to human conjecture; but it is to be assumed that after 
 momentary contemplation of Jane's kicking heels he 
 concluded the yelling end of her to be less threaten- 
 ing ; for he relieved himself of her dangerous proximity 
 by scrambling hastily across her face and scuttering for 
 the pantry. Jane's agony of soul during this maneuver 
 is only to be imagined, but her vocal expression of it 
 brought the manager down the last half-dozen steps at 
 one bound. It is a singular instance of conformity to 
 sex habit that, though the rat had run over Jane's face, 
 when the manager had with difficulty gained entrance 
 into the kitchen he found her lying on the floor yelling 
 murder with her petticoats tightly wrapped about her 
 ankles. 
 
 " In the name of goodness, Jane, what has hap- 
 pened ? " cried the manager, pulling her to her feet. 
 
 *' Oh, Master Anthony, dear," sobbed Jane, pushing 
 past him to the door, " let me out quick ; there's a rat 
 in the kitchen." 
 
 " Rubbish, woman," cried the manager after her. 
 " Here, come back and show me where you thought you 
 saw it." 
 
 But Jane was at the first landing in a couple of leaps, 
 and thrust over the banisters a face that between soup, 
 smuts, and weeping was barely human-looking. 
 
 " Not for a hundred pounds, Master Anthony, not 
 for all you could give. I tell you I saw it. It came 
 out of the basket. Get the police. Get Mr. Jackson's 
 dog. I'm goin' to lock meself in my room. Oh, Mas- 
 ter Anthony, dear, the dirty brute run over me ! " 
 
 Left to himself the manager cogitated for a moment 
 or two. It was possible there was a rat in the kitchen ; 
 and if so his duty as a man and citizen was to kill it 
 at once. But in the first place Mr. Wildridge, like most 
 men of reading and reflection, had a profound objection 
 to depriving any living creature of the existence that 
 he relished so keenly himself; and in the second place
 
 96 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 there was hardly any other animal that he wouldn't 
 rather have undertaken the killing of than a rat. 
 
 He peered cautiously into the kitchen. The debris of 
 the dinner-service lay in the middle of the floor, with the 
 valiant soup-tureen, a little in advance of the main body 
 of wreckage, still industriously greasing the tiles within 
 as wide a radius as it could reas mably be expected to do 
 with a thick soup. This circumstance alone made the 
 ground highly unfavorable for the contest. Then there 
 was a dresser, and a cupboard, both providing good 
 cover beneath them ; and beyond, the gaping pantry, at 
 present devoid of its door, which was in the hands of the 
 local carpenter. Obviously in such a field one man could 
 not cope with a rat. Jane's suggestion, the manager 
 reflected, was an excellent one ; he would go for Jackson 
 and his dogs. This would deliver him from the un- 
 pleasant necessity of executing justice in person, and 
 rehabilitate him somewhat as a sportsman in the eyes 
 of his cashier, to whom he had imparted his distaste for 
 rats. And he would behave handsomely to the rat, and 
 leave the back door open when the dogs did come.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 THE manager ran quickly upstairs for his pipe, 
 and descended equally hastily, lighting it by 
 the way at the imminent risk of his life, lest his 
 resolution should fail him if he dallied. But as he 
 opened the front door he paused. Could he be sure 
 that he would display sufficient remorselessness in the 
 hunt? He knew very well that his sympathies would 
 be with the victim ; and if he allowed that to be seen his 
 prestige with Jackson would suffer further. In his 
 preoccupation he missed the flying figure of Miss Nor- 
 manby, who had been taken in flank by the opening of 
 the hall door, in the middle of an attempt at escalading 
 the kitchen window-sill. 
 
 Just then he was saluted by the " Good night, sir ! " 
 of Mr. Denis O'Flaherty, on the way home with his 
 tools from a country job. 
 
 Here was the very man, horny-handed and callous, 
 and furnished with weapons of offense. The manager 
 ran down the steps. 
 
 "O'Flaherty," he cried. "O'Flaherty. Come in 
 for a minute." 
 
 The blacksmith's heart leaped at the sound. He had 
 been engaged all day in the very dry job as regards 
 the throat of fitting a kitchen-range, and his gullet 
 was a Sahara. As he mounted the steps behind Mr. 
 Wildridge he had no misgivings. The manager was 
 bound to be asking him in for a drink. What kind of 
 whisky a bank manager drank he could only surmise; 
 but it was surely something beyond the ordinary imag- 
 inings of a blacksmith. Mr. O'Flaherty essayed a swal- 
 
 97
 
 98 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 low, the better to realize his extremity of drought ; and 
 the deposits of the Downshire Bank were as good as in- 
 creased by one hundred and fifty pounds. 
 
 The manager closed the hall door gently and put a 
 finger to his lips. " As quietly as you can, O'Flaherty," 
 he whispered. " I want you to give me a hand. 
 There's a rat in the kitchen." 
 
 No better aid to outward dissimulation of the feelings 
 than a day's work in a country kitchen fireplace can be 
 imagined ; but if the manager had not been so wrapped 
 up in the impending struggle he must have discerned 
 even below the soot that encrusted the blacksmith's face 
 the workings of his soul. 
 
 But all unconscious he moved on to the kitchen, ex- 
 plaining the situation as he went, the blacksmith blas- 
 pheming silently in his rear, and revolving in his mind 
 the dark possibility of the manager's being a teetotaller. 
 
 " If he's anywhere he's in the pantry," said the black- 
 smith, surveying the ground without enthusiasm. 
 " Wait till I get my big pincers. Now for a light, and 
 hold it behind me. If I miss do you put your foot on 
 him." 
 
 The manager's flesh crept at the thought, but he fol- 
 lowed the blacksmith with an outward show of resolu- 
 tion as the man of iron strode savagely to the pantry 
 doorway. 
 
 Mr. O'Flaherty's chagrin vanished like a wreath of 
 morning mist as he crossed the threshold. The rays of 
 the candle glowed warmly on a flask on the top pantry 
 shelf. From its shape he knew it could contain but one 
 liquor; and the label told him that it was of an age 
 and mellowness such as seldom gratifies a blacksmith's 
 palate. 
 
 The muscles swelled in the exultant Denis' hand as 
 he gripped his pincers afresh. 
 
 " Hold up the candle, sir," he cried, " an' if I get 
 within arm's-length of him he's a dead rat ! "
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 99 
 
 The first investigations yielded no result. 
 
 "Do you think he'd be here at all?" asked Denis, 
 pausing in dubiety. "Wheesht! By the Lord Harry 
 there's his tail behind the bread-crock ! Watch with the 
 light now while I move it." 
 
 The blacksmith crept cautiously towards the crock, 
 the manager drew back a step or two. There was a 
 clatter of earthenware, a scurry, an oath. A shower of 
 sparks flew off the tiled floor; two loaves of bread 
 bounded pensively between the halves of the broken 
 crock. 
 
 61 1 just missed him," said the disappointed black- 
 smith. " Ye shouldn't have moved the light. Steady 
 again, he's in the corner yet I see him ! Wait now. 
 I can reach him with a sideways blow. Keep the candle 
 out of my eyes, an' I can't miss him this time." 
 
 It is possible that if the pincers had not encountered 
 a glass jug in their upward course the blacksmith would 
 have made his words good. As it was he merely clipped 
 a portion of plaster out of the wall two inches above 
 the rat, which again showed his capacity for grasping 
 the situation by darting for the manager's legs. Before 
 the blacksmith had picked up the extinguished candle, 
 the indefatigable animal was safe under the dresser. 
 
 " Ye had him, sir, if the candle hadn't fell," said the 
 diplomatic blacksmith, mindful of the black flask. 
 " Hold on till I poke him out. Stay you there. He'll 
 head for the pantry again." 
 
 " Take care he doesn't jump down your throat, 
 O'Flaherty," said the manager, as the blacksmith lay 
 down on the floor. 
 
 " Divil a fear of him," said the blacksmith. " He'd 
 stick half-roads down, in the soot. I've been working 
 at a range. Watch him! Catch him! jump on 
 him ! " he bellowed. " Bad luck to it, sir, you've let him 
 in again." 
 
 " Never mind, O'Flaherty," said the manager cheer-
 
 100 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 fully. " In the face of such an excuse for a drink as 
 you have it would be a sin to waste time killing rats. 
 You might reach me down that black flask from the top 
 shelf. I'm going out to the yard for water. Watch 
 you don't step on the rat." 
 
 " Sowl, you're a quare man," said the blacksmith to 
 himself as he stretched up gruntingly for the bottle. 
 " An' me doin' my best to step on it. But sure I've a 
 betther job on hand now. Will I bring the corkscrew, 
 sir? " he called. 
 
 " Aye, do, Denis. Begad, you have a very level head 
 on you for a party like this. Are you as good at the 
 blacksmithing? " asked the manager, his spirits rising 
 as the prospect of slaughter grew more remote. 
 " Come on up to the dining-room and have a drop in 
 comfort. N.ever mind your clothes. Any old clothes 
 do to drink whisky in. Come on now." 
 
 " Wait till I shut the back door, or he might get 
 away," said the blacksmith. " I'll send round one of the 
 childher with a cage-trap when I get home, an' ye'll 
 have him by morning. It'll be easier on the crockery- 
 ware, I'm thinkin'; an' Mr. Jackson'll be glad to have 
 him for the terriers." 
 
 " It seems to me, as a man utterly devoid of certain 
 sporting instincts," said the manager to himself, preced- 
 ing the blacksmith up the stairs, " that the simplest 
 plan of all would be to leave the back door open."
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 HOW about that now, Denis," asked the man- 
 ager, holding up a tumbler. 
 ^^ " Bedad, it's heavy measure, sir," pro- 
 
 tested the blacksmith. " Ye have a great hand at 
 pourin' out a sup of drink. Here's my very best re- 
 spects, an' long may ye live to keep a drop like it. 
 Faith, it's as mild as mother's milk. 
 
 " I was sayin' about Mr. Jackson. Mind you, 
 Mr. Wildridge, it's not all rats with him." The black- 
 smith winked portentously. 
 
 " I suppose not," answered the manager. " I'd be 
 surprised if it was. Now that you mention it, I have 
 seen him at other pursuits." 
 
 " He only purshoos the one of thim," said the black- 
 smith; " an' a minter she is. But ye'd know her, sir? 
 Miss Nora, the ould Rector's daughter. I was spakin' 
 to her before I came in." 
 
 " The fair-haired girl," said the manager, with an 
 appearance of mild interest. 
 
 " That's her," answered the blacksmith. " A great 
 head of yellow curls, an' an eye in her head like a 
 clockin' thrush. She's a spunky one; she's a spunky 
 one is Miss Nora." 
 
 " But she's only a child," objected the manager. 
 " Her hair's not up yet." 
 
 " There's not much of the child working her this last 
 while," said the blacksmith. " She has cut her coortin' 
 teeth this twelvemonth an' more ; an' if Mr. Jackson has 
 the pluck to go in strong before she finds out there's 
 anything but bank clerks in the world he might marry 
 her." 
 
 101
 
 102 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 " It won't be for a year or two, Denis," said the man- 
 ager. " I doubt she wouldn't be as easy to keep as the 
 terriers." 
 
 Mr. O'Flaherty shot a keen glance at the manager. 
 Was he being subjected to an unusually adroit pump- 
 ing? he speculated. But Mr. Wildridge was puffing 
 placidly at his pipe, and made no further attempt to 
 carry on the conversation. The blacksmith decided 
 that he was not being pumped. Probably the manager 
 knew all about it. But why not do a little pumping 
 himself ? 
 
 " Sure, he'll not need to keep her, sir," he ventured. 
 " Won't she be able to keep herself, an' him too? " 
 
 " Will she? " asked the manager, with lifted eyebrows. 
 "Pass me over your tumbler now, just a thimbleful. 
 Well, I'm glad to hear it," he went on, " but I'm sur- 
 prised, I confess." 
 
 Mr. O'Flaherty eyed him again dubiously; but the 
 manager again left the move to him. 
 
 " What about the fortune the old man is gettin' ! " 
 said the blacksmith at last. 
 
 " Oh, that absurd story," said the manager, laughing 
 heartily. " You surely don't swallow that, Denis? " 
 
 " It's as true as gospel," said the blacksmith heat- 
 edly. " An' I know all about it." 
 
 And before the blacksmith's second tumbler was 
 empty he himself was drained to the dregs as far as his 
 knowledge of the Normanby fortune went. 
 
 " An' if you're wise, Mr. Wildridge," he concluded, 
 " you'll be off up to the ould gentleman an' bone the 
 money before Berryman gets on the track of it. For 
 Berryman has the grip of a bull-dog when there's bank 
 business to be had. Do ye know, sir," he cried as a 
 thought struck him, " ye should put Jackson on the job. 
 He could work it for ye through Miss Nora." 
 
 " It's a great notion, Denis," said the manager cor-
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 103 
 
 dially. " You're clean lost at the blacksmithing. It's 
 a banker you should have been." 
 
 " Oh, I don't know about that," answered the gratified 
 blacksmith, " but I know a thing or two ; an' I know a 
 dacent man when I meet him. Well, just a tay spoonful. 
 Look here, Mr. Wildridge, don't make me anything the 
 worse of it, but I can give you a wee tip. We're goin' 
 to form a company." 
 
 " A company, Denis ? " said the manager. 
 
 " Yes, sir," answered the blacksmith, drawing his 
 chair nearer. " The woolen mill ye might have heard 
 tell of. Big Michael is goin' to be in it, an' Finnegan, 
 an' myself, an' McCarrison, an' one or two others. 
 We're goin' to have a public meetin' some of these days, 
 an' invite Mr. Normanby ; an' if we can put any kind of 
 a face on it, an' I know the ould gentleman at all, he'll 
 give us all the money we want an' more. There's a for- 
 tune in it ; an' if I can do anything either for yourself or 
 for the Bank ye can count on me. Only we're just 
 keepin' it to ourselves as long as we can. We want to 
 get our oar in with the man that has the money before 
 everybody gets at him." 
 
 " And does Mr. Brannegan believe in this story of the 
 fortune then?" asked the manager. 
 
 " He's certain sure of it," answered the blacksmith ; 
 " but he's going to run no risks. The way Michael puts 
 it is this: Ould Mr. Normanby is a gentleman, an' his 
 word's as good as his bond. If he pledges himself to 
 give us backings he has the money sure enough. An' till 
 he does we're going to stay on the safe side of the fence. 
 Oh, Michael's not slow ; mind ye, he's not. Ye'd think 
 to look at him that all his brains was under the waist- 
 band of his breeches, but for a big cow of a man he has 
 a wondherful head. It's a pity ye can't join me in a 
 wee dhrop of this," said the blacksmith seriously, hold- 
 ing up his glass. " It would be a great help to you with
 
 104 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 Michael ; an' mind, he'd be useful in the present business. 
 For if he's not boss in it he'll be nowhere." 
 
 " He's a trifle of an autocrat then? " said the mana- 
 ger. " Fond of his own way, I mean." 
 
 " A regular ould Oliver Crumwell," said the black- 
 smith. " Ye daren't cheep in yon bar-parlor of his, not 
 if ye were drinking yourself intil the poorhouse. But if 
 he's your friend he's your friend. It's a mortal pity ye 
 don't take a dhrop." 
 
 " It'll be all right, Denis," said the manager, " so long 
 as I buy it for my friends." 
 
 " It's not just the same thing," answered the black- 
 smith, shaking his head. " He wouldn't have the same 
 hoult of ye. When a man has got the length of seein' 
 that whisky's not good for himself, it's not long till he 
 begins to see that it's not good for his friends. Long 
 may it be till you come to that, sir," said the blacksmith, 
 rolling a few drops on his palate. " An' in the mean- 
 time every wee dhrop ye get from Michael'll be a help. 
 So you keep in with him, Mr. Wildridge ; for there'll be 
 money in this woolen mill if the ould gentleman backs us 
 up properly." 
 
 " You'll be dependent on that a good deal, I sup- 
 pose," said the manager. 
 
 " If you said we'll be dependin' on it altogether," 
 answered the blacksmith, " ye'd be nearer the truth. 
 If ye have anything to put in the mouths of the people 
 of this town they'll open them for it, an' the divil a 
 much more. I must be goin' now, an' thank you kindly. 
 I'll send round the trap by one of the wee fellows. No 
 more, thank you, sir," said the blacksmith with regret- 
 ful firmness. " I haven't had my tay yet." 
 
 " I won't press you then, Denis," said the manager. 
 " It's not well to drink on an empty stomach." 
 
 " I don't know about that," said the blacksmith, 
 moving irresolutely towards the door. " There's no 
 time a glass of whisky will go further. But my brains
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 105 
 
 is bizzin' like a hive of bees. I'm sayin', sir " he 
 looked round the room with interest as he got up 
 " ye have a most lamentable fine lot of books gathered 
 about ye." 
 
 " Not too bad at all, Denis," said the manager with 
 visible gratification. He looked lovingly along his 
 shelves. " Some of them, at any rate. That's a pretty 
 bit of tooling, eh? " He took down a volume and 
 passed his hand caressingly over the binding. " Look 
 at that work, Denis." 
 
 " It's purty," said the blacksmith. " It is, purty. 
 The man that done that was a handy fellow. An' do 
 ye mind the curlicues of it, just like one of them orna- 
 mental gates. If it's not imperent of me to ask, sir, do 
 ye keep them for furniture or for usin' ? " 
 
 " You'll think it foolish of me, Denis," said the mana- 
 ger ; " but I believe I've dipped into most of them one 
 time or another." 
 
 " I wouldn't say that at all," said the blacksmith. 
 " I've a great respect for a man with a bit of learnin'. 
 But your head must be gey an' full. I suppose by this 
 time ye could write a book yourself if ye laid your mind 
 to it." 
 
 The manager looked at Denis with a trace of diffi- 
 dence. Unwittingly the blacksmith had placed a temp- 
 tation in his way. 
 
 For years Mr. Wildridge had secretly cherished the 
 design of a translation of his beloved Horace into the 
 vernacular, and had even completed some versions. 
 Hitherto a certain cynical perception of how one's 
 friends regard such an aberration had enabled him to 
 conquer the natural desire of the author for an audi- 
 ence. But surely here was a heaven-sent opportunity 
 to test his performance. Why not try it on the black- 
 smith, a son of the soil, and an evident master of the 
 homely Ulster idiom? He yearned, but hesitated. 
 Common sense, never very far from his elbow, prompted
 
 106 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 him that to acknowledge a taste for dabbling in litera- 
 ture was not, in the North of Ireland at least, precisely 
 the best means towards laying the foundations of a rep- 
 utation for solidity of character. The manager could 
 have laid down the principle say to Mr. Jackson, 
 had that young man been bookishly inclined in the 
 most sententious manner. But the author prevailed 
 over the bank manager. 
 
 " Do you know, Denis," he said, " I've had a notion 
 of trying my hand at one some time." 
 
 " An' I'll hould ye could do it too," said the black- 
 smith. " Where'd be the use of havin' all that iron lyin' 
 round ye if ye couldn't make a horseshoe. What would 
 it be about now, sir, if I might ask? " 
 
 " Oh, nothing much, Denis," answered the manager. 
 " A few verse translations turning poetry from a 
 foreign language into our own." 
 
 " An' can ye do that ? " said the blacksmith with 
 seriousness. " Bedad, it's clever of ye. Ye couldn't 
 give me a verse or two of it now? I was a great man 
 for a song or a ballad when I was a young fellow ; an' 
 I'd like a lilt of it well." 
 
 " Sit down, then, and take another spoonful," said the 
 manager, drawing a roll of manuscript out of his desk. 
 " It'll comfort you under a bit of a disappointment, 
 Denis ; for I may tell you I'm not going to sing. But 
 I'll just read you a little translation of a poem by one 
 Horace that you may have heard of before." 
 
 " I have not, then," answered Denis. " Who was he, 
 anyway ? " 
 
 " He was an old Roman, Denis," said the mana- 
 ger. 
 
 " An' nothing the worse of that, Mr. Wildridge," 
 answered the blacksmith. " I'm not a bit bigoted, mind 
 ye, but I give in I like to hear somethin' by one of my 
 own sort." 
 
 " I don't mean that he was a Catholic, Denis," said
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 107 
 
 the manager. " He lived long before the days of Chris- 
 tianity " 
 
 " Small blame to him then, if he hadn't the true 
 faith," interrupted the blacksmith. " Ye can't eat the 
 praties before the seed's planted. It won't go too hard 
 with him, anyway. They say the like of him goes when 
 they die to Fiddler's Green, an' that, as ye know, Mr. 
 Wildridge, is a mile on this side of hell. Fire away, 
 sir." 
 
 The manager lifted a sheet of manuscript and began, 
 rather anxiously: 
 
 " Mark how Slieve Donard rears his glittering 
 crest " 
 
 " Slieve Donard? " broke in the blacksmith. " This 
 Horace was a County Down man then? " 
 
 " Well no, Denis," said the manager, " although it 
 would have been no disgrace to him. As a matter of 
 fact he lived in Italy." 
 
 " That's a long way off," said the blacksmith. 
 " How did he come to hear of Slieve Donard? Ye'd 
 wonder he hadn't a lump of a hill nearer home. Well, 
 Mr. Wildridge?" 
 
 " Mark how Slieve Donard rears his glittering crest, 
 
 Thick-mantled in deep snow. 
 
 The o'er-weighted pine-woods groan; fast bound by 
 
 frost 
 The streams have ceased to flow" 
 
 " How would they," interposed the blacksmith, " an' 
 them all froze. But it was no goat's toe of a frost 
 stopped the big waterfall " 
 
 *' Drive out the wintry nip, pile high the hearth" 
 the manager hurried on
 
 108 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 " With ashen logs or beech, 
 And place a bottle of good ten-year-old 
 Here, just within our reach." 
 
 " D'ye mind that now," said the blacksmith with 
 great approval. " This Horace was a hearty wee fel- 
 low. None of your soft stuff for him. But I didn't 
 know people made whisky so long ago as that. Boys, 
 Mr. Wildridge, if somebody had laid aside a keg or two 
 of John Jamieson in them days it would be the great 
 medicine by now. Go on, sir." 
 
 " Come, let the world wag as it will, we'll make 
 A jolly roaring night: 
 Old Nature takes the weather as it comes, 
 And, faith, I think she's right. 
 
 " What though to-morrow bring heart-scald and care, 
 We've no need now to fret; 
 
 Here's a good fire, good drink, good company; 
 It's not to-morrow yet." 
 
 " They must have been wirin' in heavy into the ten- 
 year-old," observed the blacksmith, " or they'd have 
 knowed that themselves." 
 
 " Then since good luck has sent a night like this 
 Let's hain each hour like gold. 
 And you, young folk, go dance, and laugh, and lo've; 
 You'll soon enough be old." 
 
 " It's the truest word he has said yet," remarked the 
 blacksmith. " Old courtin' is cold courtin' all the world 
 over. And ye might do worse than take that to your- 
 self, Mr. Wildridge." 
 
 But the manager was rapt in the ecstasy of the ama- 
 teur, and only waved his hand impatiently :
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 109 
 
 " You girls get out and romp; this is no time 
 To waste on fireside joys. 
 
 1 hear some fellows whispering round the house; 
 Be off, and meet your boys" 
 
 " They wouldn't be long inside, ye may swear," inter- 
 jected the irrepressible Denis. 
 
 " And you lads, each of you should have a lass; 
 We've plenty hereabout. 
 
 There's some one giggling there behind the door, 
 Who wants to be found out. 
 
 " Go seek her some brisk chap, and taste her lips; 
 She'll not take it amiss. 
 
 Even if she frowns, don't heed; the tussle for't 
 Is better than the kiss." 
 
 " Ah, my tight fellow," cried the blacksmith boister- 
 ously, slapping his leg. " He knowed how to handle the 
 girls." 
 
 " I'm afraid, Denis," said the manager with depreca- 
 tion, " the last verse or two isn't just the same as the 
 original." 
 
 " I don't care tuppence," said the blacksmith heart- 
 ily ; " it's good, bedad it's good. And even if it is your 
 own. There's no tellin' but this Horace would have put 
 it the same way if he'd been a County Down man." 
 
 " It's a flattering thought, Denis," said the manager, 
 laying down his manuscript absent-mindedly. " * Hor- 
 ace in the County Down,' " he muttered ; " begad, the 
 very title for my book. I only hope, Denis, that as I 
 grow older I'll have more sense in some ways than he 
 had." 
 
 "Was he a bit short in the wit then?" asked the 
 blacksmith. 
 
 " He wasn't just as wise as he might have been about
 
 110 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 the girls as he got on in years," said the manager. 
 " It's rather disquieting too ; for he had even more ex- 
 perience than myself." 
 
 " Ach, I'd think nothing of that," said the blacksmith. 
 " He had a good man's fault. But Lord ! look at the 
 time. She'll think a chimley has fell on me. Good 
 night, sir. I'll send the trap straight round. An' if 
 anything fresh turns up about the woolen mill ye can 
 depend on me to let you know." 
 
 The manager remained at the hall door a few minutes 
 after Denis had departed, gazing vacantly into the 
 night. 
 
 " I wonder now " he murmured to himself. 
 
 He closed the door and began to walk up and down 
 the hall in deep thought, now and then penciling a word 
 on the manuscript he had carried down in his hand. 
 
 A timid rap on the door aroused him. 
 
 " That's a good boy," he said to the blacksmith's 
 little son. " I believe I have two new pennies here that 
 we made only this morning. By George," he said to 
 himself as he carried the trap into the kitchen, " I'd for- 
 gotten all about the rat and the fortune too ! This 
 won't do, Anthony, my son. Even if your uncle Joseph 
 has left you six thousand pounds, there's something due 
 to the company. Awake, and be a bank manager again. 
 Get thee behind me, Satan," and he stuffed his manu- 
 script into a pocket. "Come, where's the cheese? 
 and then for a good think." 
 
 He baited and set the trap, entered into a treaty 
 through her bedroom door with Jane, that any vic- 
 tims were to be removed before she entered the kitchen 
 in the morning, and then settled himself to meditate over 
 a last pipe. 
 
 A little analysis convinced him that the blacksmith's 
 more highly colored story of Mr. Normanby's good for- 
 tune did not differ in essentials from the cashier's. But 
 it was evident that Michael Brannegan, who was re-
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 111 
 
 puted a shrewd man, gave credence to it, and possibly 
 Michael had additional sources of information. Then 
 Miss Normanby's attempt to borrow fifty pounds per- 
 haps had bearing on the situation. Her father might 
 be at some preliminary legal expenses, and be unwilling 
 or unable to obtain an advance from the American firm. 
 Undoubtedly there was a certain amount of cumulative 
 evidence for the truth of the rumor. 
 
 The manager went off to bed regretting more than 
 ever that the negotiations with Miss Normanby had been 
 left in the hands of his cashier. He comforted himself 
 with the reflection that the present of plums showed his 
 position in relation to the rectory to be unaltered, and 
 fell asleep just about th6 time that Miss Nora's pet rat 
 decided that for a really appetizing supper there was 
 nothing to beat toasted cheese.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 DURING the next few days intelligence of the 
 Normanby fortune began once more to make 
 ground. Reports originating in Portnamuck 
 journeyed round the adjacent country districts, gained 
 in strength and variety every mile, and returned to the 
 town so transformed that the originators didn't recog- 
 nize them, and gladly hailed them as confirmation of 
 their own issue. Then news of Michael Brannegan's 
 endorsement of the legend began to leak out in spite of 
 the landlord's despotic authority over his vassals ; and 
 was held to be almost conclusive. The patent suspen- 
 sion of amicable relations between Miss Nora and Mr. 
 Jackson was taken as further evidence in support. 
 Naturally the young lady having come into a fortune 
 would turn up her nose at a bank clerk. 
 
 But Miss Nora cherished no such unworthy senti- 
 ments. On the contrary, having almost no friends of 
 her own age in the town she missed her pleasant com- 
 radeship with Mr. Jackson keenly. The rupture, too, 
 prevented her from ascertaining the fate of her pet rat ; 
 and Miss Nora, though somewhat thoughtless, was ten- 
 der-hearted to animals, and felt more than a little con- 
 science-stricken over her part in his untimely end, which 
 she knew to be almost certain. There was also, per- 
 haps, a lurking desire to acquire a fresh grievance 
 against her enemy the manager. 
 
 And so after a few days Mr. Jackson, strolling along 
 one morning to the Bank, received a resounding slap on 
 the back, and turned round to find Miss Normanby 
 standing with outstretched hand. 
 
 112
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 113 
 
 " Look here, Jacks," she said ; " if I'll bury the 
 hatchet, will you? " 
 
 Mr. Jackson hesitated a moment. With the natural 
 instinct of the party to whom peace is offered, he felt 
 inclined to make a virtue of concession, and to improve 
 his future position in the alliance by standing on his 
 dignity a little. But his usual boyish good-nature as- 
 serted itself. 
 
 " Of course I will, Nora," he said, gripping the prof- 
 fered hand. " Buried it is." 
 
 " That's all right, then," said Miss Nora off-hand- 
 edly. " I'll walk as far as the Bank with you ; but 
 don't let's talk about the row or we'll fall out again. I 
 say," she went on after a moment's hesitation, " did you 
 hear what that old stick of a manager of yours did with 
 my rat? " 
 
 Jackson paused, wide-eyed. 
 
 " You don't mean to say, NWa," he cried, '* that it 
 was you who put the rat among the plums ? " 
 
 " Did he spot that the rat came in the plums ? " de- 
 manded Miss Nora, a little nonplussed. 
 
 " It was partly through my dogs sniffing round the 
 basket that we twigged it," answered Mr. Jackson. 
 " And then we found some of the plums gnawed. 
 But we never thought of the rat being placed 
 there on purpose. What on earth made you do it, 
 Nora?" 
 
 " Just to give that old beast of a manager of yours a 
 shock. I wanted to spite him some way or other, and 
 I remembered your telling me about his hating rats. 
 But it didn't come off, all through that inquisitive cat of 
 a housekeeper, Anyhow, she got a fright that will keep 
 her from prying for a bit," said Miss Nora with great 
 satisfaction. *' You'd have heard her yelling halfway 
 down the street. And I say, Jacks " Miss Nora 
 laughed gleefully at the recollection " you should have 
 heard the smashing of dishes. I barked one of my shins
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 trying to climb up to see the fun. I suppose he killed 
 the rat all right ? " she asked, sobering down. 
 
 Mr. Jackson laughed heartily in his turn. 
 
 "Wait till I tell you the joke, Nora," he cried. 
 "Have I time?" He looked at his watch. "I have. 
 Listen. The manager set a trap for the rat and caught 
 it right enough. When I came in next morning he had 
 the trap with the rat in it on his desk. Of course I 
 thought he was afraid to kill it himself, and was keep- 
 ing it for me and the dogs ; but would you believe it, he 
 wouldn't let it be killed at all." 
 
 " And it isn't killed? " asked Miss Nora incredu- 
 lously. 
 
 " It isn't," answered Mr. Jackson. " He told me he 
 began to watch it in the cage before I came in, and gave 
 it a piece of bread; and when he saw it sitting up on 
 its hind-quarters eating the bread, and cleaning its 
 whiskers with its fore-paws afterwards, he couldn't bring 
 himself to let it be worried by a dog; and there it is in 
 the private room. He feeds it on oat-bread and cheese 
 every day, and is dusting out the office himself till he 
 gets a charwoman. Old Jane wouldn't go into the office 
 for a pension. Would you have believed a man could be 
 such a silly ass about a rat? " 
 
 Miss Nora considered for a moment. 
 
 " Do you know, Jacks," she said unexpectedly, " he 
 must be not such a bad sort after all." 
 
 " Good Lord, Nora," cried the startled cash- 
 ier ; " you're not turning sentimental about rats 
 too." 
 
 " Look here, Jacks," said Miss Normanby sharply. 
 " I've killed as many rats as ever you did." 
 
 " I know that, Nora," interposed Mr. Jackson hast- 
 ily, " but " 
 
 " And if it goes to that I'll back my fox-terrier bitch 
 to kill rats against any dog you've got," she went on 
 truculently.
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 115 
 
 " I believe she would," admitted Mr. Jackson, 
 " but " 
 
 " But you see this was my pet rat," said Miss Nor- 
 manby ; " and I was rather keen on it." 
 
 " I never knew you had a pet rat, Nora," said Mr. 
 Jackson apologetically. 
 
 " Well, I had," said Miss Normanby. " And now 
 your manager's got him. And the manager can't be 
 such a bad old sport. Do you think if I faked up some 
 lie about how the rat came there, he'd give him back to 
 me, Jacks? " 
 
 " I'm sure he would," answered the cashier, " if he 
 knew you wanted it badly. Look here, Nora, the man- 
 ager's quite gone on you." 
 
 " Chuck it, now, Jacks," said Miss Nora warningly. 
 
 " But he is, though," persisted Mr. Jackson, who saw 
 a chance of undoing his business error. " After you 
 went out the other day he talked no end about your blue 
 eyes, and said you were as straight as as a rush. It 
 wasn't a rush exactly; he quoted some rubbish about 
 Apollo but that was what he meant. Then he thinks 
 the dickens and all of your father," went on Mr. Jack- 
 son, feeling himself quite a diplomat. " And " 
 
 " What did he say about my eyes ? " interrupted Miss 
 Normanby. 
 
 " I don't exactly remember," answered Mr. Jackson. 
 " Something awfully nice, anyway. I tell you he's clean 
 struck on you. Good gracious," he cried, " I must run. 
 Look here, I'll tell him the rat must have got into the 
 basket himself, and that you've heard about it and came 
 to ask me. Come on in now, and have a chat with him. 
 He's a real good sort ; and if he'd been in the Bank the 
 other day he'd likely have given you the money." 
 
 " Can't possibly go in now," answered Miss Nora, 
 shaking her curls and pursing up her mouth with a dis- 
 tracting air of importance. " I've got an appointment 
 with Mr. Berryman down at his bank."
 
 116 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 "Bad luck to him," interjected Mr. Jackson under 
 his breath. 
 
 " I got a letter from him this morning, asking me to 
 call without fail to-day." 
 
 " I say, Nora," broke in Mr. Jackson appealingly, 
 " you're not going to turn your back on us, after you 
 and I have been such chums ? " 
 
 " You're a pretty decent chap as bank clerks go, 
 Jacks," said Miss Nora, regarding the cashier ap- 
 praisingly ; " but you didn't do very much for me the 
 other day, and Mr. Berryman's cashier did, so it's up to 
 me to stick to him. Look here, young Jacks," she 
 cried ; " there's ten striking ! You'd better skip it. 
 Look out for me coming back if the manager's not 
 there, and tell me what he says about the rat. I don't 
 want to face him. Ta-ta ; I'm off. You won't catch it 
 either for being late. Oh dear, no." And away went 
 Miss Normanby, Atlantalike, while Mr. Jackson with 
 less grace but equal speed hastened to the Bank door, 
 fortified against his chief's wrath by the consciousness 
 of a good excuse. 
 
 Discussion of his news was, at the polite but firm sug- 
 gestion of the manager, suspended till the preliminaries 
 of receiving the public had been gone through ; and then 
 as usual he began the subject himself. 
 
 " I'm inclined to think, Mr. Jackson," said he, " that 
 Miss Normanby's rat friend didn't get into the basket 
 quite so unassisted as she wants to make out." 
 
 " You don't mean to say that she put it there on 
 purpose," asked Mr. Jackson, with a very fair simula- 
 tion of astonishment. 
 
 " I don't know enough about her yet to be able to 
 guess at her taste in presents," said the manager. 
 " She has never sent you any little token of the kind, 
 has she? A couple of mice, or a few cockroaches, 
 say?" 
 
 " No, sir," answered Mr. Jackson. " To tell you the
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 117 
 
 truth, sir," he blurted out, " she put the rat in on pur- 
 pose to spite you on account of the other day. But if 
 you'll give him back to her we'll maybe get the bulge on 
 old Berryman yet. She was awfully pleased you didn't 
 kill the beggar, and now she wants td"get him again. 
 She's coming in about it presently. You wouldn't give 
 her the fifty pounds, and let her pay old Berryman off? 
 I'm sure now it's all right about the fortune. And if 
 we let the other people keep in with her it's all up with 
 our chance of getting any business from the old man. 
 Then there'd be the woolen mill account too. I'd let 
 her have the money on chance." 
 
 " As a business proposition, Mr. Jackson," said the 
 manager, " it's not to be considered for a moment in the 
 present state of our information. But she shall have 
 her rat. I'll withdraw gracefully when she comes in; 
 and you can convey the glad news to her. You needn't 
 let her know that I'm aware of how he got into the bas- 
 ket. I'm afraid I was cynical enough to suspect it, be- 
 fore you told me. Timeo Danaos by the way, did 
 you ever read the Second ^Eneid? " 
 
 " I never did, sir," answered Mr. Jackson. 
 
 " Never mind, Mr. Jackson," said the manager, " the 
 rule-book is far better reading for a bank clerk with 
 matrimonial tendencies. By the way, my young friend, 
 if ihe future Mrs. Jackson intends to keep pet rats, and 
 love doesn't drive out your passion for terriers, there's 
 likely to be stirring times hi the family. ' Incompati- 
 bility of pets,' I suppose a jury would call it. The 
 great outstanding point of the bachelor life, Mr. Jack- 
 son," went on the manager, " is the freedom it allows to 
 the development of individuality. Now I might if I 
 chose keep pet rats in every room in the house " 
 
 " What about old Jane, sir? " asked the cashier with 
 a respect a little tempered by malice. 
 
 " Yes, there's old Jane to be considered," confessed 
 the manager. " But then you see I can always change
 
 118 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 my Jane, and you, once you'd got her, couldn't change 
 your Nora." 
 
 " I shouldn't ever want to, sir," said Jackson stoutly. 
 
 " It's well and romantically said," returned the man- 
 ager ; " but then some decent man once thought the same 
 about Jane; and yet he left her within two months. 
 Sentiment, my dear fellow, is beautiful but evanescent, 
 like the hair on the male human head " the manager 
 passed the tips of his fingers thoughtfully across his 
 brow " and vanishes about the same time. Now here 
 am I who have fairly well outgrown both. But I think 
 I see our friend the rat's mistress coming down the 
 street. Tell her I'll send it round to-night. I'll be in 
 the private room ; and if there is any talk of borrowing 
 money just call me out. A young man with a head of 
 hair like yours isn't to be trusted to talk business with 
 such a pair of blue eyes." 
 
 The manager vanished into his private room just in 
 time to escape the entering Miss Normanby. A peep as 
 he cautiously closed the door revealed her in an unex- 
 pected phase, large-eyed, pale, and distressed, almost 
 tearful. His curiosity was aroused, but he was of a 
 philosophic habit of mind, and knowing that he was sure 
 to hear all from his cashier he sat down to steady work 
 at the books he had carried in. 
 
 But the interview threatened to be as protracted as 
 on the last occasion when he had vacated the premises 
 for Mr. Jackson's benefit. Customers entered and de- 
 parted, but still Miss Normanby held the field. He 
 could hear her voice, low and appealing, very different 
 from her usual ringing tones. Uneasiness began to as- 
 sail him. Could the young lady be once more on bor- 
 rowing bent? And if so was Mr. Jackson's fortitude 
 capable of bearing this second strain? A vision of yel- 
 low curls floated before his eyes and left him in doubt. 
 He decided to allow the couple five minutes more, and 
 then to re-enter the Bank office. He could not, how-
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 119 
 
 ever, concentrate his mind on work. When Mr. Jack- 
 son opened the door of the private room he found his 
 manager engaged in feeding Miss Normanby's pet rat. 
 
 " Watch the little beggar washing his face, Mr. Jack- 
 son," said the manager over his shoulder. " Now 
 there's Jane, who places herself infinitely higher in the 
 scale of respectability than a rat, and yet he's washed his 
 face oftener in the course of this one morning than Jane, 
 if we're to judge by her appearance, washes hers in a 
 month. I wonder " 
 
 " I beg your pardon, sir," broke in the cashier a little 
 breathlessly ; " but I want to speak to you at once. 
 Miss Normanby's just gone out " 
 
 " I hope you weren't anyway abrupt with her," inter- 
 rupted the manager, glancing momentarily at the office 
 clock. 
 
 " I couldn't get her out any sooner, sir, really," pro- 
 tested Mr. Jackson. " I say, sir, she's been in a most 
 fearful row in the North-Eastern Bank." 
 
 " Hallo ! " said the manager, becoming alert at once. 
 "How's that?" 
 
 " It's all over that fifty pounds the cashier let her 
 have. Old Berryman's mad about it. He wrote to her 
 to call there this morning, and when she went down he 
 brought her into his room, and began to cross-question 
 her. Of course she cheeked him you know the way 
 she would, sir " 
 
 " As a matter of fact I do not know," said the man- 
 ager; "but I think I can guess. Well ? " 
 
 " Well, he turned downright nasty, and went for her 
 about getting the money from the cashier behind his 
 back, and told her she must either answer any questions 
 he asked or repay the money; and when she said she 
 couldn't just at once, he told her he'd apply to her 
 father, and that in the meantime he'd hold the cashier 
 personally responsible." Mr. Jackson paused a mo- 
 ment for breath. " And as she was coming back here
 
 120 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 the cashier ran after her and came all the way down 
 the street with her, telling her what an awful scrape he 
 had got into, and how it would ruin his whole career if 
 his head office got to hear, and a lot of snivelling non- 
 sense like that, and begging her to go back and tell old 
 Berryman all he wanted to know ; and now she's in a ter- 
 rible state about it all ; for she told her father that she 
 got the money without any trouble, and that there 
 wasn't the slightest hurry about paying it back, and the 
 old man's so honorable and proud that he'd fair break 
 his heart if there was even a little trouble about the 
 affair; and then she's afraid she may have done the 
 cashier a lot of harm she's a real good-hearted sort, 
 Nora and she's wild because she's under an obligation 
 to a poor-spirited creature like him. Do you think, 
 sir," concluded Mr. Jackson with his last vestige of 
 breath, " you couldn't let her have the fifty pounds ? " 
 
 The manager pondered for a moment or two. 
 
 " She's in an awful hole, sir," ventured Mr. Jackson. 
 
 " Did she tell you what she wanted the money for ? " 
 asked the manager. 
 
 " Oh yes, sir," answered the cashier eagerly. " The 
 report we heard is quite correct. They've come into a 
 whole pot of money, and the fifty pounds is wanted for 
 some preliminary expenses." 
 
 " Did she give you any particulars about the amount 
 of the fortune or where it's coming from?" asked the 
 manager. 
 
 " She did not, sir," answered the cashier, a little dis- 
 concerted. " She said she was under a promise not to 
 tell anything at present. But she pledged her word to 
 me that it was all right, and she's as true as steel, sir." 
 
 " No doubt, Mr. Jackson," said the manager, " no 
 doubt. But on your own showing she has displayed a 
 certain talent for concealment from her father. * She 
 has deceived her father and may thee.' You've read 
 Othello, I suppose, Mr. Jackson? "
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 " Well, not exactly, sir," admitted the cashier. " But 
 I've often intended to." 
 
 " Perhaps you're just as well not to," said the man- 
 ager. " A little banking law would be far better for 
 your future. Still, the Merchant of Venice, perhaps 
 there's a certain sidelight on sixteenth-century practise. 
 Better not, though. One or two good modern text- 
 books, and, as I said before, the Rule-book. But to get 
 back to Miss Nora's affairs. In the absence of any 
 
 fresh information I'm afraid " The manager 
 
 pursed up his lips, and shook his head gently. 
 
 " If you'd only seen her, sir," said the cashier, 
 " you'd have been sorry for her. I'd give her the money 
 myself if I had it." 
 
 The manager looked at him tolerantly. 
 
 " You'll outgrow these little weaknesses, Jackson, my 
 boy," he said. There was a tinge of melancholy in his 
 smile. " A hard and practical world will help you to do 
 that. At first you'll be glad, too ; and then you'll begin 
 to be sorry. I'm rapidly coming to the sorry stage. 
 But it doesn't help one to recover the first fine rapture of 
 romance. Gad, you might do worse than give her the 
 money, too, if you had it. The look you'd get from 
 those blue eyes would nearly repay a fellow at your 
 time of life, that is, of course. Blue eyes are the very 
 devil," said the manager, falling into a reverie. " Up 
 till I was thirty any girl with a really fine pair could 
 have married me, if she'd only known." 
 
 Mr. Jackson was not devoid of a certain astute- 
 ness. 
 
 " If you'd seen Nora's to-day, with the tears stand- 
 ing in them," he ventured. 
 
 " Poor big girl," said the manager. " Was it as bad 
 as that?" 
 
 " Yes, sir," answered the cashier. " She was fairly 
 crying. You'd have been real sorry for her." 
 
 " Anybody would," agreed the manager. " She's not
 
 122 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 the sort whose nose turns red when she weeps ? " he in- 
 quired anxiously. 
 
 " I never noticed," answered Jackson, hesitating. 
 
 " That's all right," said the manager. " If it did you 
 would have noticed. But let me think over this business 
 of hers." 
 
 The manager took a few turns thoughtfully up and 
 down the office, Mr. Jackson regarding him with kind- 
 ling hopefulness. 
 
 " I fear it's not a case where I could risk the Bank's 
 money," he pronounced, suspending his walk. Mr. 
 Jackson's face declared his disappointment. 
 
 " Wait a minute now," went on the manager, raising 
 a deprecating hand. " You know, Jackson, my son, 
 although I've only been acquainted with you a very 
 short time, I take a great interest in you and this little 
 affair of yours." 
 
 Mr. Jackson's smile was between himself and his 
 Maker. 
 
 " Thank you, sir," he said with an expressionless 
 face. 
 
 " Well, now," continued the manager, " here I have 
 come into quite a pot of money for a miserable old bach- 
 elor like myself, and here are you full of a romantic 
 dream that a mere matter of fifty pounds might bring 
 true. I'll lend you fifty pounds, to be repaid at the 
 Greek Kalends maybe you've not heard of the Greek 
 Kalends? Well, we'll say on the day after you marry 
 Miss Nora I hope that will be a shorter date ; and 
 you shall give it to her this evening when you are restor- 
 ing her friend the rat. Send her a message to meet 
 you." 
 
 " You're a brick, sir," cried Mr. Jackson with enthu- 
 siasm. " She'll be fairly delighted with you. Old 
 Berryman won't have a chance with you now." 
 
 " Oh, but you mustn't let me appear in the matter," 
 said the manager hastily. " Or the Bank either. The
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 money is to come as from yourself. Not a word now. 
 That's the condition." 
 
 " I couldn't possibly do that," protested the cashier. 
 " It would be false pretense to Nora. And she'd never 
 forgive me if she found out," he added ingenuously. 
 
 " There's no false pretense about the matter," said the 
 manager. " You've just told me that if you had fifty 
 pounds you'd give it to her. Very well, you have fifty 
 pounds. It's yours absolutely, a token of my admira- 
 tion for for your good taste. I withdraw all con- 
 ditions. There's nothing to be found out now. You 
 needn't give it to Miss Nora if you don't wish to." 
 
 " But, sir " began Mr. Jackson. 
 
 " Besides, there's my position to be looked at," went 
 on the manager. " Suppose it got out that I had given 
 the money to Miss Nora. There would be misconcep- 
 tions about the affair. This is a censorious world, Mr. 
 Jackson ; and if my observation is not badly at fault, 
 this is a particularly censorious corner of it. Not a 
 man or woman in the town would believe I gave the 
 money on your account. If I wasn't satisfied that I've 
 outgrown the follies of my youth I wouldn't be too sure 
 of it myself. And what would be the result as far as I 
 am concerned? There's not a family inside a ten-mile 
 radius with a fair-haired slip of a girl in it but would be 
 sending her in to borrow money off me the next day. 
 Why, they'd be importing them from Sweden! No, 
 Jackson, my son," concluded the manager, " in common 
 decency you must keep me out of it." 
 
 " It places me in a very awkward situation," objected 
 the cashier, plainly weakening. 
 
 " On the contrary it places you in a capital situation. 
 Strategically you've never been in such a position since 
 you entered on the campaign. Here we have Miss Nora 
 'cast down, apprehensive, without apparently a 
 ray of hope, when lo ! enter luciferously Mr. Ernest 
 Jackson. The clouds disappear, the difficulty vanishes.
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 If Miss Nora Normanby has a heart in her bosom, and 
 it doesn't soften to Mr. Jackson in that moment, I'm a 
 Dutchman," said the manager, " and I'm not. But 
 mind," he added, waving a forefinger warningly, " don't 
 let the opportunity slip. No use battering down the 
 fortifications if you don't push the attack home. Close 
 quarters, my boy, that's my last word to you, close 
 quarters. And now, Mr. Jackson, not another word 
 about Miss Normanby till work is over for the day. 
 It's an extraordinary thing," he added, breaking his 
 own rule a few minutes later, " how much she has bulked 
 in the conversation in this office of late. Still, no, it's 
 not a bit extraordinary ; she's a witch. Gad, if I were 
 a few years younger I'd be wishing I was conducting 
 to-night's operations." 
 
 " In a way you are, sir," said Jackson. " You're 
 supplying the ammunition anyhow." 
 
 " It's a useful and honorable branch of the service," 
 answered the manager, smoothing down the lessening 
 hairs above his forehead a little ruefully ; " but I'm 
 almost tempted to wish I were in the firing-line."
 
 CHAPTER XV s 
 
 PUNCTUALLY at the appointed hour that eve- 
 ning Mr. Jackson rang the Bank bell. The 
 manager opened to him, and going into his pri- 
 vate room brought out an oblong brown-paper parcel. 
 
 " There you are now, Jackson," he said. " Tell Miss 
 Nora she may keep the cage. I'll make it all right with 
 O'Flaherty. Do you know I feel quite sorry to part 
 with the little chap. I never thought I'd live to become 
 attached to a rat of all animals. But he has quite a 
 winning way with him. Then, of course, one doesn't 
 like to part with a friend's gift." 
 
 " I'm afraid it wasn't meant altogether in friendship, 
 sir," said Mr. Jackson, tucking the parcel under his 
 arm. 
 
 " Maybe not," said the manager. " But I don't 
 mind. In fact, if I were disposed to become your rival 
 I should look on the incident as rather encouraging 
 than otherwise. ' A little aversion to begin with.' 
 You know the saying. And now," pulling an envelope 
 out of one of his pockets, " here's the source of your 
 future fortune, if you'll only remember what I told you 
 to-day." 
 
 " It's awfully decent of you, sir," said the cashier, 
 taking the money with some hesitation. " But I wish 
 you would let me " 
 
 " Not a word, now," said the manager, pushing him 
 gently out. " Only remember my advice, and act upon 
 it. Good night, and good luck to you." 
 
 Mr. Jackson strode down the street with two resolu- 
 tions firmly implanted in his mind: first, to act on his 
 
 125
 
 126 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 manager's counsel ; and, secondly, at all risks to disclose 
 the source of the fifty pounds. It was his misfortune 
 to act upon neither. 
 
 Miss Nora received him under one of the oil lamps by 
 which darkness was rendered visible in the streets of 
 Portnamuck. She hastened to tear off the brown-paper 
 wrapping, and after a course of investigation that in- 
 cluded a pretty severe bite to one of her forefingers, de- 
 cided that it was indeed her rat, and proceeded to lavish 
 a number of endearing expressions on the animal which 
 Mr. Jackson, as a proprietor of several fox-terriers, 
 thought very much misapplied. Then she turned to 
 him. 
 
 " Jacks," she asked, " do you think Mr. Wildridge 
 could possibly have spotted that I put the rat in the 
 basket on purpose? " 
 
 Mr. Jackson inwardly gave thanks to the lighting 
 committee of Portnamuck. 
 
 " Oh, he twigged it at once, Nora," he answered. 
 " But he wasn't a bit annoyed. Wasn't it decent of 
 him, though, not to kill it ! " 
 
 " Maybe he hadn't the pluck to do it," said Miss 
 Nora doubtfully ; " he's afraid of them, you know." 
 
 " Oh, I'd have killed it for him with the terriers," 
 said Mr. Jackson incautiously, with the pride of an 
 expert. 
 
 " You're a pig, Jacks," declared Miss Nora with em- 
 phasis. " And knowing it was my rat, too. I wouldn't 
 have believed it of you. Yes, you would now ; you said 
 you would," she cried, interrupting his protest. " I 
 thought that manager of yours was a beast, and he was 
 a beast with me in ways ; but he's been real decent over 
 my rat, I'll give in. A good deal decenter than you, 
 with your blessed old terriers. Good night. And tell 
 him what I said." 
 
 Mr. Jackson saw himself at an unexpected disadvan- 
 tage, and hastened to play his trump card.
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 127 
 
 " Wait a minute, Nora," he called after her. 
 " There's something else for you." 
 
 " What is it ? " demanded Miss Nora, coming back 
 with an air of suspicion. " No silly jokes now, Jacks. 
 Have you anything for me ? " 
 
 Mr. Jackson paused a moment before making his 
 grand coup, and wished desperately he could find some- 
 thing fitting the occasion. But inspiration failed him. 
 
 " I've brought you fifty pounds," was all he could get 
 out; and he handed over the envelope awkwardly. 
 
 Miss Normanby drew out the notes, and turned them 
 over with incredulity. 
 
 " I say, Jacks," she breathed in an awed whisper, 
 " where on earth did you get them? Did the manager 
 send them to me, after all? " 
 
 Surely never could there be a more favorable open- 
 ing for Mr. Jackson's disclosure. But he paused for a 
 fatal instant. 
 
 ** Jacks," cried Miss Nora, and there was a note in 
 her voice that Mr. Jackson had never heard before ; " I 
 believe it's your own money." 
 
 She stepped a little towards him, her eyes glistening 
 even in the mild radiance of the Portnamuck oil lamp. 
 
 No one who looked at her could have blamed him. 
 Mr. Jackson was a little in love, and had just been com- 
 pared unfavorably with his manager. And, besides, it 
 was the manager's orders. 
 
 " I knew you were in such a hole, Nora," he muttered. 
 
 Miss Nora came nearer. Then a horrid suspicion 
 assailed her. " Jacks," she whispered, " you've not 
 done anything you shouldn't have ? " 
 
 Mr. Jackson laughed aloud, glad to be diverted from 
 some awkward thoughts. 
 
 " Good Lord, Nora," he exclaimed, " you don't think 
 I've stolen the money, do you ? " 
 
 " Then it's your very own money," said Miss Nora, 
 relief in her voice.
 
 128 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 " It's my very own," declared Jackson stoutly. 
 After all, he cast back at his reproaching conscience, 
 the manager had laid emphasis on that. 
 
 Miss Nora was standing close beside him, clasping one 
 of his arms. Two quick tears stood in her eyes. She 
 pressed the cashier's arm hard. 
 
 " Jacks," she half sobbed, " don't laugh at me ; I'm 
 a stupid. But if you only knew how it humiliated me to 
 be abused by that little bounder this morning." 
 
 Her young body swayed towards him yieldingly. A 
 wandering strand of hair fell across his cheek. Mr. 
 Jackson's heart beat madly. It was his moment, as the 
 manager had foreseen. He raised his unoccupied arm 
 and half encircled her waist. Then perhaps it was 
 youth, perhaps it was timidity, perhaps it is the sup- 
 position most creditable to Mr. Jackson it may have 
 been conscience; but the arm fell back by his side. 
 
 " That's all right, Nora," he muttered, and cursed 
 himself inwardly for the banality ; " I'd do more than 
 that for you any day." 
 
 Miss Nora released his other arm slowly, and stood 
 back a step or two. An embarrassed silence fell on the 
 pair. Miss Nora broke it first. But the hint of pas- 
 sion was gone from her voice, and she fell back once 
 more on the current coin of slang. 
 
 " You've been a real brick, Jacks," she said for 
 her life she could not keep a certain coldness out of her 
 voice " and I'll not forget it of you." 
 
 " That's all right," said Mr. Jackson again awk- 
 wardly. The pair moved irresolutely apart. " Good 
 night, Nora," he added with an effort of jauntiness, and 
 turned to go. 
 
 " Good night, Jacks," said Miss Nora a little form- 
 ally, acknowledging his salute with an unwonted prim- 
 ness. 
 
 Then a rush of warm feeling overcame her constraint.
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 129 
 
 She ran after Mr. Jackson, and slipped a hand through 
 his arm. 
 
 " Jacks," she said over his shoulder breathlessly, " I 
 can't tell you just at once, for I'm under a promise; but 
 as soon as ever I can I'll let you know all about our 
 fortune ; and every penny of it will go into your Bank, 
 if I have to lock father up on bread and water." 
 
 Her breath fanned Mr. Jackson's ear. The spell 
 that had fallen on him was broken. He grasped at Miss 
 Nora's waist as he turned to face her. 
 
 But the moment was lost. She slipped dexterously 
 from his grasp, picked up her pet and vanished from the 
 circle of light. Out of the darkness her voice floated 
 back gay and careless as of yore. " Ta-ta, Jacks, old 
 boy. Take care of yourself." 
 
 Mr. Jackson returned slowly to his lodgings.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 NO student of country-town life will require 
 to be told that the reconciliation between the 
 Downshire Bank cashier and Miss Nora Nor- 
 manby was common property within an hour of their 
 public shake-hands in the street. The cobbler, who was 
 himself capable of putting two and two together and 
 making at least one hundred, had witnessed Miss Nora's 
 entrances and exits by the Bank door during the rest 
 of the day, and was assisted in his deductions by his 
 wife, who had, providentially, as she herself declared, 
 not only seen the Rector's daughter enter Mr. Berry- 
 man's bank, but had waited till she came out again. 
 The patently imploring attitude of Mr. Berryman's 
 cashier was interpreted as a last attempt to secure the 
 Normanby business. It became quite clear that Mr. 
 Berryman's curtness when drawn on the subject of the 
 fortune had been due, not to the non-existence of the 
 fortune, but to the fact that he wasn't likely to get any 
 benefit out of it. 
 
 It was held to be rather cunning of Mr. Berryman to 
 resort to the blandishments of his cashier, but the gen- 
 eral opinion was that the young man had no chance 
 whatever in either love or finance with Mr. Jackson. 
 
 Then the dimness of the Portnamuck street-lamps had 
 not been sufficient to conceal the latter young gentle- 
 man's evening interview with Miss Nora ; and an enter- 
 prising youth of about ten had converted a promised 
 reward of a penny from his mother into an actual emolu- 
 ment of twopence by a brilliant feat of espionage which 
 included a full report of the handing over of a packet of 
 bank-notes. He was not able, indeed, to declare the 
 
 130
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 131 
 
 number of notes or their denomination ; but his mother 
 supplied the deficiency with a liberal imagination; and 
 the incident was regarded as conclusive. 
 
 It was admitted that the new man in the Downshire 
 Bank was more open-handed than his predecessor or 
 Mr. Berryman; but that he would hand over five hun- 
 dred pounds the original and minimum statement of 
 the amount unless the reality of Mr. Normanby's 
 good fortune was unquestionable, no one believed for a 
 moment. 
 
 Then Molly Dugan scored a notable success by de- 
 tecting several letters to big Michael Brannegan from a 
 chartered accountant in Belfast, and the subsidiary ru- 
 mor of a woolen factory soon outstripped its parent, 
 since more people had a chance of making money if it 
 proved true. 
 
 Numerous fallow brains in Portnamuck and district 
 began to stir with projects. John Dickson, reputed a 
 far-seeing man by his neighbors, paid ten pounds an 
 acre more than the market price for a small farm on the 
 outskirts of the town, and was known to have ordered a 
 shilling hand-book on market gardening; and another 
 farm was withdrawn from the market by the prospective 
 seller. At least a score of young men countermanded 
 their tickets for America and bought cheap engagement 
 rings instead. And hardly a small farmer who had 
 robbed Mr. Normanby in the course of some of his for- 
 mer schemes for the advancement of the district but saw 
 himself doing a little bill in one of the banks on the se- 
 curity of his former prey, some for the purpose of en- 
 larging outbuildings and others to assuage thirst. 
 
 In the town itself the speculative spirit was little less 
 rife. Half a dozen proprietors of potato gardens con- 
 sulted the local carpenter about the cost of notice 
 boards for " Building ground to let." Mrs. Doan of 
 the Temperance Hotel solicited an estimate from Keffey, 
 the local builder and contractor, for an annex to be
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 used as a dining-room for visitors, ignorant that her op- 
 posite neighbor, Mr. Amos Browning, had made a simi- 
 lar request with regard to the cost of turning his parlor 
 and kitchen into a restaurant; while Keffey himself 
 a meager, depressed little man, as befitted the builder in 
 a stagnant or declining town who might have been 
 said literally to live on the east wind, since the greater 
 part of his income for years had been drawn from re- 
 pairing damage caused by gales from that quarter, was 
 so stimulated by the unwonted prospect of building ac- 
 tivity that he lost a night's sleep worrying whether he 
 would have enough capital to carry on with or whether it 
 wouldn't be better to have his fire at once and make a 
 fresh start. 
 
 Nor was the spirit of enterprise confined to the prole- 
 tariat. Mrs. Woodburn, a widow lady reputed to pos- 
 sess something more than a competence, caught the in- 
 fection, and decided to erect some house property on 
 that very desirable plot of building ground adjoining 
 her bungalow. Her determination, resulting in an ap- 
 plication to the ground landlord, conveyed the microbe 
 of progress into the ranks of the aristocracy. 
 
 The aristocracy in Portnamuck and neighborhood 
 was represented by the de Bullevant family, consisting 
 of Hugo de Bullevant, his wife Mary, and his son Percy. 
 
 The de Bullevants, who had come over to England at 
 the Conquest, having exhausted the plunder gained by 
 participation in that exploit, obtained a footing in 
 Ireland about the end of the sixteenth century as the 
 result of a transaction in which an unfortunate Irish 
 chieftain secured a very small degree of protection in ex- 
 change for a very large extent of land ; after which the 
 family, not possessing the amount of enterprise neces- 
 sary to carry them any farther West, settled down to 
 steady mental deterioration and the breeding and de- 
 struction of various species of game birds. These pur- 
 suits being more entertaining than lucrative, a financial
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 133 
 
 crisis of a more or less acute nature arose at fairly regu- 
 lar intervals, and was tided over by one or both of the 
 usual expedients in such cases ; namely, an extra turn of 
 the screw on the tenantry, or a wealthy marriage. 
 
 The first of these in the course of time and legislation 
 becoming increasingly subject to the law of diminishing 
 return, the second was more frequently resorted to, and 
 had at last become the only resource. But there is al- 
 ways a tendency to defer such nuptials as long as may 
 be, and Mr. Hugo de Bullevant, having a soul above 
 shackles and a taste for the Turf, rejoiced in freedom 
 so long and so wholeheartedly that if he had not been 
 fortunate enough at last to espouse a wealthy, if 
 plebeian, widow the date of the family shipwreck would 
 have fallen in his reign instead of coinciding, as it 
 threatened to do, with the accession of his son. 
 
 Mrs. de Bullevant, deprived by her alliance of the de- 
 lights of gossip in person, kept herself in touch with 
 public events in Portnamuck by means of her maid. 
 The application of Mrs. Woodburn for a building site 
 was enough of a phenomenon to excite inquiry. The 
 maid was despatched to Portnamuck for a bolt of tape, 
 and brought back in addition an unusually well-authen- 
 ticated account of the Normanby fortune. A chamber 
 council was immediately summoned, and it was decided 
 that Mr. Percy should waive the considerable difference 
 in rank and wed Miss Nora. It is hardly necessary to 
 remark that her consent was taken for granted. 
 
 Once it has been stated that Mr. Percy was red- 
 haired, brainless, and absurdly good-natured there is 
 nothing more to be said. He had superadded to the 
 family taste for field sports a love of golf almost 
 amounting to a passion, and when the intelligence of his 
 future good fortune was communicated to him by his 
 father, his first thought, after the extinction of the 
 family mortgages, was that at last he would be able to 
 have an eighteen-hole golf-course at his own door.
 
 134 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 With the simple directness that usually characterized 
 his actions he immediately put on his hat and sallied 
 forth to the rectory; and the result was that on the 
 second day after his unfortunate mission with the fifty 
 pounds Mr. Jpckson received a note from the Rector's 
 daughter. 
 
 '* DEAR JACKS," it ran, " If you're on for a laugh 
 meet me at Big Michael's corner at four o'clock this 
 evening. * Darling Percy ' has decided to marry me if 
 I'll provide him with an eighteen hole golf-links, and 
 we're going to look at the ground this afternoon. Mind 
 and turn up. We'll have a grand lark with him. 
 N. N." 
 
 Mr. Jackson's face, which had been decidedly gloomy, 
 brightened up a good deal as he read the note. He 
 passed it over to his manager. 
 
 " Oh, come now, Jackson, my boy," said the latter, 
 " there's nothing the matter with this. A little bit 
 cavalier, perhaps rather more of the comrade than 
 the lover about it ; but comradeship is good enough to 
 go on with. I was quite wrong about the night before 
 last. It would have been much too precipitate. That's 
 the letter of a girl who, if you're not her fancy, is at 
 least fancy-free; and you've no rival to fear. You 
 settle down to a slow siege. I fancy ' darling Percy ' 
 won't affect the operations much." 
 
 So -spake the manager, heartening up Mr. Jackson, 
 who had been in such a state of depression for two days 
 that his chief had overcome a natural desire to say, 
 " Well, I gave you good advice," and devoted himself to 
 cheering his junior. 
 
 " By the way, Jackson," went on the manager, " Mr. 
 Percy is the son of de Bullevant, Mr. Normanby's 
 ground landlord of the old mill and premises, isn't he? 
 I thought so. The gentleman who won't give him a
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 135 
 
 proper title." The manager thoughtfully tapped his 
 chin. " You might keep your eye on how Mr. Percy's 
 suit progresses," he added, after a moment or two; 
 " and as soon as it seems in anything of a favorable 
 stage tell me at once." 
 
 " She'll not have anything at all to do with him," 
 declared Mr. Jackson. " It's not on my account," he 
 put in hastily, " but Percy's such a little ass." 
 
 " I think you'll find Miss Nora won't turn him away 
 just so quickly as that," said the manager. " Even if, 
 as we have no doubt, his ultimate fate is already sealed, 
 he'll be allowed a few gleams of hope, if I'm not mis- 
 taken. And I fancy Mr. Normanby's chance of obtain- 
 ing a proper title would not be lessened thereby. Eh? " 
 
 " By Jove, sir," said the cashier admiringly, " you're 
 a cute one." 
 
 " Oh, of course nothing may come of it," said the 
 manager ; " but keep your eyes open in any case. And 
 now, Mr. Jackson, on with your work and be in time for 
 your appointment. Every second you're late is clear 
 gain to Mr. Percy." 
 
 The spirits of industry and silence descended on the 
 cashier's department for the rest of the day, but fruit- 
 lessly. Just on the stroke of three o'clock Mrs. Mar- 
 garet Maginness, who had insisted on placing each of 
 her son's remittances from the States on a separate de- 
 posit receipt in order to follow lovingly the rising tide 
 of his prosperity and generosity, came into the Bank 
 office with the whole sheaf of eighteen in her hand. Her 
 son was coming home to buy a farm, and she wished to 
 gladden his eyes with the grand total on a single re- 
 ceipt. 
 
 By the time Mr. Jackson had calculated interest on 
 the eighteenth receipt, and sinned his soul with internal 
 blasphemy for about the one hundred and eightieth time, 
 he was twenty minutes behind schedule. 
 
 The consequent twenty minutes' wait at Big Michael's
 
 136 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 corner was spent by Mr. Percy consciously in pushing 
 his rather artless suit, and unconsciously in furthering 
 the flotation of the Portnamuck Woolen Factory, Ltd. 
 At least three hundred pounds' worth of possible cap- 
 ital was converted into certain by the spectacle of Miss 
 Nora Normanby's twenty minutes' interview with the 
 son of the local landowner. 
 
 Portnamuck had at least as accurate a knowledge of 
 Mr. Hugo de Bullevant's financial situation as that 
 gentleman had himself. That his son should be allowed 
 to make advances to a girl with anything but the most 
 solid expectations was not to be thought of. 
 
 " Watch him, now," said Terry the waiter to his 
 friend the blacksmith, who was discussing an afternoon 
 draught of porter with him in the bar-parlor, " watch 
 him, the little wasp, bizzin' about a foine big lump av a 
 girl like Miss Nora. Sure, if she shook herself the wind 
 av her skirts would whiff him over the roof. She has 
 the brass, though, Denis; she has the brass or he 
 wouldn't be there. Likely now ould Bullevant would 
 have word av the money through Government. All 
 these big bugs stand together to keep the money av the 
 the counthry among themselves. But wouldn't it vex 
 you to see the loikes av Miss Nora throwin' herself away 
 on a miserable wee pismire av a man loike that." 
 
 " It's the blue blood, Terry, that's runnin' short," 
 said the blacksmith ; " an' the men is bein' cut down to 
 spread it. If the aristocracy was all big bullocks of 
 men like Michael here, there wouldn't be enough of the 
 genuine article to go round." 
 
 " Blue or red," answered Terry, still contemplating 
 Mr. Percy with contempt, " there's not a dozen midge- 
 bites av it in the whole wee anatomy av him. Sure he's 
 as dhry as something a spider would lave behind him in 
 a web. It's a pity she's threw over a sappy young fel- 
 low like Masther Jackson av the Bank for that wizened 
 little crab. If he comes on the wee fellow makin' up to
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 137 
 
 his girl like that, he'll be dug out av him wid a spade. 
 An' bedambut here he's comin' down the road ! " 
 
 But Terry's expectations were disappointed. The 
 trio proceeded quite amicably towards the beach, which 
 lay something over a quarter of a mile from the town 
 proper. 
 
 Mr. Percy, who was secretly scandalized by the in- 
 clusion of the Bank cashier in the party, though too 
 good-natured to be uncivil to Mr. Jackson was too tact- 
 less to avoid being condescending; and before the party 
 was clear of the town Mr. Jackson's air of dignity was 
 so conspicuous that intelligence of the success of birth 
 over true love was spreading through the town like 
 wildfire. 
 
 Miss Normanby appeared quite unconscious of any 
 restraint. 
 
 " I say, Jacks," she demanded of her left-hand swain, 
 " hadn't you met Percy before ? " 
 
 " This is the first time I have had the pleasure of 
 meeting Mr. de Bullevant," returned Mr. Jackson 
 stiffly. 
 
 " Mr. de Bullevant," cried Miss Nora. " Listen to 
 that, Percy." She smacked the hapless Mr. Percy re- 
 soundingly on the back, and burst into peals of delighted 
 laughter as his hat leaped into the road. " Now don't 
 be trying to look dignified, Percy. Percy and I are 
 old friends, you know, Jacks, though he's forgotten me 
 till lately. I say, Percy, do you remember the evening 
 we broke into old Benison's orchard and you tore 
 your " 
 
 " Oh, I say, Miss Nora," interjected Mr. Percy, turn- 
 ing a brick color ; " really, you know " 
 
 " All right, Percy, I'll not give you away," said Miss 
 Nora. " But you've been on your high horse for a long 
 time now, and I'm going to take you down a bit. Have 
 you heard about Percy, Jacks," she demanded, coming 
 to a stop in the middle of the road. "You haven't?
 
 138 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 Oh, well, Percy's fallen in love with a beautiful young 
 lady with money " 
 
 " Oh, really now, Miss Nora," protested Mr. Percy, 
 turning rather redder than before. 
 
 " Shut up, Percy ; you know it's true. Haven't you 
 just been telling me," went on Miss Normanby remorse- 
 lessly. " And she's going to lay him out an eighteen- 
 hole golf-links all for his very own. Are you in love 
 with the girl or the golf-links, Percy ? " 
 
 But Miss Normanby's frontal attack was too much 
 for Mr. Percy's powers of repartee, and after splutter- 
 ing " 'Pon my soul, Nora really, 'pon my soul " he 
 came to an embarrassed full stop. 
 
 " All right, Percy," said Miss Nora. " I see you're 
 shy before Mr. Jackson. Never mind; he's a bit shy 
 himself sometimes. Look at him blushing." 
 
 And indeed the cashier, as usual, did turn red. 
 
 " Go across to Tom's, Percy, and bring the key of the 
 loaning gate, and we'll go down and inspect the course." 
 
 "I say, Nora," remarked Mr. Jackson, contemplat- 
 ing Mr. Percy's retiring figure with a much happier ex- 
 pression of countenance, " aren't you a little too hard 
 on the beggar? " 
 
 " Not a bit, Jacks," answered Miss Nora cheerfully, 
 tucking her hands in her jacket pockets and leaning 
 easily against one of the posts of the gate. " Percy's 
 not a bad little sort himself. He and I used to play to- 
 gether when we were kids; and I didn't like him half 
 badly. But when he grew up he turned up his nose at 
 me, and got on his high horse. Now he hears I'm com- 
 ing into money, and he's sniffing around to see if I'll set 
 the great de Bullevant family on its legs again. Just 
 the way, Jacks," said Miss Nora, turning a pair of 
 frank blue eyes on the cashier, " just the way you've 
 been sniffing around to try and get our business for the 
 Bank. All right now, Jacks, don't stutter. I know 
 you've got to do it ; and besides, you stuck to me your-
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 139 
 
 self. Maybe it's not Percy's fault either. I expect it 
 was his people set him on. But I can't get at his peo- 
 ple, so I've got to take it out of Percy." 
 
 " You can take it out of his people if you like, Nora," 
 said Jackson, glad to escape from dangerous ground. 
 
 " How can I, Jacks? " cried Miss Nora eagerly, mov- 
 ing a step towards him. 
 
 "You know the old mill?" 
 
 " I know," said Miss Nora, nodding with comprehen- 
 sion. " Percy's father's been a pig about it. Dad told 
 me the whole story." 
 
 " Well, now's the time to get a proper grant of it 
 from old de Bullevant. You tell Mr. Percy his people 
 are rotters over the business, and make him prove they 
 aren't by giving a proper deed." And Mr. Jackson 
 proceeded to show the justice and propriety of the act. 
 
 Miss Nora wrinkled her pretty brows a moment over 
 the ethical problem. 
 
 " I don't see why on earth I shouldn't," she said at 
 last. " Jacks," she cried, regarding the cashier wide- 
 eyed, " you're a wonder ; and I thought you were good 
 for nothing but fox-terriers. Fancy your thinking all 
 that out for me." 
 
 Alas! Facilis descensus Averni. This time Mr. 
 Jackson wore his borrowed plumes with hardly a qualm. 
 And if there was any lingering trace of tenderness in 
 his conscience it was speedily dispelled by Mr. Percy. 
 
 Like most other specialists, Mr. Percy cut an awk- 
 ward enough figure out of his selected field, but was all 
 the more effective in it from the very unexpectedness of 
 his brilliance. A bad third in the trio so far, the in- 
 stant he stepped on the sand-hills his leadership 
 was unquestioned. Even Miss Nora acknowledged the 
 subtle influence. To the man she was almost openly 
 contemptuous ; but the golfer predominated over her. 
 
 " The first tee would be here," said Mr. Percy, 
 briskly ascending an eminence, " and the green in that
 
 140 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 hollow. A drive and a masliie. Just wait a second." 
 He pulled a steel club-head from his pocket, deftly sub- 
 stituted it for the handle of his walking-stick, teed up a 
 golf-ball and smote it fair and full, a perfect iron-shot. 
 
 " A full mashie would get you up from there," said 
 Mr. Percy. " Like to have a smack, Mr. er 
 Johnson ? " 
 
 So Mr. Jackson delivered a couple of savage assaults 
 on an unoffending westerly breeze, and handed the 
 improvised club rather sulkily over to Miss Nora, who 
 also failed to hit the ball, which Mr. Percy then unas- 
 sumingly drove two hundred yards or so. 
 
 After that his ascendancy was complete. He drove 
 along level stretches, he pitched over sandhills, he putted 
 amazing lengths into rabbit-scrapes with his protean 
 club, till between his skill and Miss Nora's frank admira- 
 tion of it he had driven all sentiments out of Mr. Jack- 
 son's bosom but the desire to murder, which is latent in 
 every young man who has a rival. 
 
 But the exaltation of Mr. Percy was to be abased. 
 
 He had interrupted his dissertation on a projected 
 short hole to lay back his adjustable club-head a trifle 
 farther, while Miss Nora ran across to speak to Mr. 
 Jackson's bill-discounting friend Mrs. Margaret Ann 
 Doolahan, who was crossing the sandhills. 
 
 " Now," he said, when she returned, putting down a 
 ball, " I'll just pitch over that ridge on to the green. 
 It'll be a blind hole, but a beauty all the same." 
 
 " You could never hit a ball over that mountain," 
 declared Miss Nora, shaking her curls. " It's impos- 
 sible even for you," she added, with an ingenuous 
 admiration that made the cashier grind his teeth. 
 
 Mr. Percy smiled superior, measured the distance 
 with his eye, and played his stroke. The ball sailed 
 sweetly over the summit of the ridge. 
 
 " Just on the green," said Mr. Percy, turning to Miss 
 Nora for congratulation.
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 As he spoke a piercing shriek sounded from the other 
 side of the ridge, and was followed by a dismal howling, 
 apparently in a woman's voice. 
 
 Mr. Percy's club dropped from his hand. 
 
 " Good Lord," he cried, staring at Miss Nora aghast, 
 " I've struck some one ! " 
 
 " Run, Percy ; run, Jacks," cried Miss Nora, and set 
 them the example. " It's poor old Margaret Ann Doo- 
 lahan. There was nobody else about. Oh, poor old 
 creature ! I hope she's not seriously hurt." 
 
 And, sure enough, when the three breasted the ridge, 
 there below them was Margaret Ann seated on a hum- 
 mock, rocking to and fro in agony, and giving vent to 
 a series of most piercing ululations. The horror- 
 stricken party paused an instant on the overhanging 
 bank of turf, which ended their hesitation by collapsing 
 and precipitating them headlong down the slope of fine 
 sand. Miss Nora was first on her feet and ran over to 
 the sufferer. 
 
 *' Where are you hurt, Margaret Ann," she cried, 
 bending over her solicitously. " Is it your eye? " 
 
 " It's my eye, Miss Nora dear," wailed Margaret 
 Ann, her apron tightly pressed to the injured member ; 
 " my eye's out, my eye's out. Oh, the wee white ball 
 has put out my eye ! " And Margaret Ann burst into a 
 long quavering screech. 
 
 "What on earth shall we do, Percy?" asked Miss 
 Nora, turning a face of consternation to the shaking 
 culprit. " I think you'd better run for the doctor." 
 
 " An' was it you done it on me, Mr. Percy ? " de- 
 manded the victim, sitting up suddenly and fixing the 
 criminal with one fierce eye. " Was it you that has 
 lamed an' disfigured a poor helpless inoffensive bein' 
 with your fool nonsense? Oh, ye shouldn't ha' done it, 
 Mr. Percy ; ye shouldn't ha' done it on me, on me that 
 has known you and yours all my life an' respected them, 
 an' has held ye in my arms many a time when ye were
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 an infant child ; an' a dwamlin', helpless wee crather ye 
 were. Oh, my eye, my eye ! " And Margaret Ann 
 went off into a fresh paroxysm of lamentation. 
 
 " What are we to do, Nora," stammered the hapless 
 Percy. " I say, what the dickens are we to do ? " But 
 Miss Nora had been a little overcome by the feeling 
 reference to Mr. Percy's infant days, and was contem- 
 plating the horizon with an expression of hopeless 
 concern. " Can you suggest anything, Mr. er John- 
 son? " turning to the cashier, who was regarding the 
 injured woman with the awkward sympathy usual to 
 the unskilled spectator in such cases. " I'm so damn- 
 ably upset," said Mr. Percy, rumpling his thin hair in 
 dismay at a further outburst of woe. " This is a dread- 
 ful business, you know. What on earth can we do, eh? " 
 
 " Better look at her eye," said Jackson, with a happy 
 inspiration. 
 
 " That's a good idea," said Mr. Percy, relieved. 
 " By Jove, that's a capital idea ! It mayn't be so bad. 
 Let us see your eye," he bawled, bending over the rock- 
 ing Margaret Ann. 
 
 " Oh, don't, Percy," cried Miss Nora in distress. " I 
 couldn't bear to look at it." 
 
 *' Run you across to the cottage and get some warm 
 water and a cloth, Nora," said Jackson with authority. 
 " We'll look at it." 
 
 But Margaret Ann refused to listen to the sugges- 
 tion, and redoubled her wailing at each attempt to with- 
 draw her hand. 
 
 "' I say, confound the woman ! " cried the exasperated 
 Mr. Percy at last. " What are we to do with her? " 
 
 Instantly Margaret Ann sat up. Fury inflamed still 
 further her swollen features. 
 
 " An' is it cursin' me ye are, you that has wronged 
 and abused me, an' made a dark woman av a poor penni- 
 less widow that was hard put to it to earn a crust of 
 bread with her seem' sight? Aye, that's you, an' the
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 143 
 
 breed, seed, an' generation of ye, that would thrample 
 down the poor an' needy an' lave them to the workhouse 
 if ye had your way. But mind yourself, Mr. Percy ; 
 mind yourself this time. I may be a poor woman, but 
 the poor has friends. There's them in the country'll 
 not let me be wronged. Ye'll hear more of this, Mr. 
 Percy; mind ye, you will. If there's law in the land 
 ye'll hear more of this ! " And Margaret Ann rose to 
 her feet suddenly and set off at a shambling trot to- 
 wards the gate, moaning piteously as she went. 
 
 Mr. Percy looked after her in consternation, then 
 turned to the cashier. His mouth opened and shut 
 without emitting any sound. 
 
 But Mr. Jackson, helped by his previous knowledge 
 of Margaret Ann's character, had gathered a ray of 
 daylight from her last speech. All feeling of rivalry 
 vanished in a generous impulse of comradeship. 
 
 " Run after her quick and offer her some money," he 
 said hurriedly. " I know the old devil. She's not 
 much hurt, and it's money she's after. Run ! " 
 
 But Mr. Percy stood. " Would she want much? " he 
 asked, hesitating. 
 
 " Offer her a sovereign," said Mr. Jackson, a little 
 disgusted ; " or two, if it comes to that. She'll sell her 
 whole carcase for two. It'll cost you about fifty if 
 Timkinson of Ballygreen gets hold of her and makes 
 a Quarter Sessions case of it," he added warningly, as 
 Mr. Percy still hesitated. 
 
 He watched the colloquy from afar with interest. At 
 first Margaret Ann evidently wouldn't hear of compro- 
 mise, and pursued her way resolutely towards the gate, 
 Mr. Percy trotting in her wake bidding furiously. 
 Then her pace slackened. Mr. Jackson could hear her 
 answering. The two came to a full stop ; and presently 
 Mr. Percy walked back slowly with a countenance di- 
 vided between relief and embarrassment. 
 
 " I say," he stammered as he drew near. " She'll
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 take two pounds. You couldn't lend me a couple of 
 sovereigns, could you? I came out with only a few 
 coppers in my golf-coat." 
 
 Mr. Jackson's jaw dropped. The de Bullevant ex- 
 chequer was an open book to him; and he bitterly re- 
 gretted his moment of generosity. But he was too 
 junior an official to be yet hardened in refusal; and, 
 unluckily, the major portion of his month's salary was 
 reposing in his waistcoat pocket. He drew out a sov- 
 ereign-case reluctantly. 
 
 The journey back was accomplished by the trio in 
 comparative silence. Both Mr. Percy and the cashier 
 had their reasons for taciturnity, and Miss Nora seemed 
 anxious only to get back to the town. At Big Michael's 
 corner she bade Mr. Percy a hurried good-by. " Come 
 along, Jacks," she said to the cashier, and bolted hastily 
 down the lane leading to the blacksmith's. 
 
 Mr. Jackson found her propped up against a back 
 door, in a helpless paroxysm of laughter. 
 
 " Oh, Jacks, dear," she cried, wiping her streaming 
 eyes with a not altogether spotless handkerchief the 
 functions of Miss Nora's handkerchief were multifarious 
 " what a lark, what an almighty lark ! Oh, dear " 
 and she went off into a succession of trills that on the 
 way down to the proposed golf-links would have rav- 
 ished Mr. Jackson's heart. 
 
 But at the moment he was not disposed towards 
 laughter. 
 
 " I don't see very much lark about it," he said a little 
 testily. " The old woman mayn't be much the worse 
 I don't believe she is, but that fool might have put her 
 eye out." 
 
 " Why, you fathead, he didn't hit her at all," said 
 Miss Nora, sobering for a moment. 
 
 " He didn't hit her? " said Mr. Jackson, staring at 
 her blankly. "Why 
 
 " No, he didn't," said Miss Nora. " Well, you are a
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 145 
 
 juggins. I thought you saw through it. I put her up 
 to it all, just to take a bit of the starch out of little 
 Percy. He was swanking too much about his blessed 
 golf. But didn't she do it well? I could hardly keep 
 in at Percy's face, with his mouth opening and shutting 
 like a goldfish! And you haven't heard the best of it 
 yet. She got two pounds out of him. Two golden 
 sovereigns. She showed them to me as she went past." 
 
 " I know," said Mr. Jackson glumly. " They were 
 my two sovereigns." 
 
 " What ? " demanded Miss Nora, open-eyed. 
 "Yours, Jacks? How?" 
 
 Mr. Jackson explained, with a strong suggestion of 
 grievance in his bearing. 
 
 Miss Nora strove to preserve her gravity; but the 
 situation was too much for her. For the second time 
 that day Mr. Jackson failed to be charmed by Miss 
 Nora's laughter. 
 
 " Oh, Jacks dear," she gasped, feeling for her hand- 
 kerchief again. " I'm sorry, really I'm sorry ; but it's 
 too funny for anything. Fancy old Percy being such a 
 downy bird. And you a bank man too ! " 
 
 The insinuation that he had been overreached was the 
 last straw laid on Mr. Jackson's temper. 
 
 " He wasn't downy at all," he cried hotly. " The 
 little ass hasn't that much brains. It's just that he's a 
 confounded pauper, like his old father before him. I'll 
 never see my two pounds again. And I don't see why 
 you should laugh at me, anyway," he went on, after re- 
 garding her impatiently for a little ; " I've not done 
 anything on you. I must go back to the Bank now, 
 Nora. I left some work undone to come out on this 
 expedition of yours." And the cashier turned away in 
 some dudgeon. 
 
 " Here, Jacks," said Miss Nora, running after him 
 and catching him by the arm, " don't you be marching 
 off in a temper. I know I shouldn't laugh, but all the
 
 146 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 same it was funny. Now don't be a silly ass," she said 
 coaxingly, clinging to him as he strove to throw off her 
 arm. " I know you've been a trump to me. And look 
 here, Jacks," she pulled him round to face her, " in a 
 day or two at most I'll tell you all about you know, 
 the money. And when I'm giving you back your fifty 
 pounds I'll throw in a couple of sovereigns for luck. 
 Now is urns better? Smile on the lady then, Jacks." 
 Miss Nora put her head on one side and looked at the 
 cashier ingratiatingly. 
 
 It was not in male flesh to resist her. Mr. Jackson's 
 features relaxed. 
 
 " All right, Nora," he said, " no harm done." 
 
 But his ruffled feelings were not altogether soothed. 
 More than a modest degree of humor is not desirable in 
 a young man's sweetheart. Despite Miss Nora's wheed- 
 ling eyes he saw the laughter trembling on her lips, and 
 as he made his way back to the Bank he decided, with a 
 fine oblivion of the facts, that if he had it to do over 
 again he wasn't sure whether he would have given her 
 the fifty pounds at all. 
 
 The manager, too, was not so sympathetic as he ex- 
 pected, and ignored the money side of the episode in a 
 manner that Mr. Jackson felt was more in keeping with 
 a manager's salary than with a cashier's. 
 
 " She's a great girl," declared his chief with delight ; 
 " gad, she's a great girl. Good Lord, why am I not 
 twenty-five again! Two eyes, and a shape like that, 
 and a sense of humor thrown in. It's more than any 
 one man deserves. Jackson, my boy, I envy you or 
 at least I should if I were ten years younger. Maybe 
 a sense of humor in your wife doesn't appeal to you 
 very much at present," said the manager, observing 
 his cashier's lack of enthusiasm ; " but it'll be a great 
 comfort to you when her figure begins to go. By the 
 way, Mr. Jackson," and the manager assumed a more 
 professional tone, " now that this story of the fortune
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 147 
 
 seems to be correct, I wish you'd take an early oppor- 
 tunity of introducing me to the young lady. I have 
 possibly a little more experience on the business side of 
 things." 
 
 But though the manager laid stress on the business 
 aspect of the case, it is an undeniable fact that as he 
 brushed his coat in the lavatory preparatory to going 
 out he glanced for an appreciable instant in the look- 
 ing-glass.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 AS it turned out, the introduction was effected 
 without the assistance of Mr. Jackson. 
 The evening after her golfing adventure 
 Miss Normanby was interrupted in the congenial task 
 of washing one of her numerous dogs by a visit from 
 her friend Miss Gertrude, the only daughter of the 
 widowed Mrs. Woodburn whose aspirations in the build- 
 ing line have already been mentioned. Miss Woodburn 
 had only the day before arrived home from the Con- 
 tinent after being " finished," and lost no time in call- 
 ing on Miss Nora, partly from her own affection for an 
 ancient friend, and partly at the instigation of her 
 mother, who was not on particularly intimate terms with 
 the Rectory herself and hoped to obtain some informa- 
 tion through her daughter. Gertrude was a quiet, 
 rather shy girl of about nineteen, neutral in coloring 
 and character. But her appearance was redeemed from 
 insignificance by a pair of rather fine brown eyes, and 
 she had an unconscious trick of looking up at her male 
 fellow-creatures in timid admiration that appealed to 
 the vanity latent in every man's breast, and had been 
 known to do a good deal of damage among the young 
 fellows who visited Portnamuck in summer-time. 
 
 Miss Nora found her slow as a rule, and on the pres- 
 ent occasion would much rather have continued the 
 washing of her Irish terrier; but recognizing that it 
 was an operation more interesting to the performer 
 than to the spectator she hastily sluiced the animal 
 down, and sallied forth with the visitor towards Port- 
 namuck. 
 
 148
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 149 
 
 " We'll kill two birds with one stone, Gertie," ex- 
 plained Miss Nora. " A run will dry Tinker's coat, 
 and you'll have an opportunity of meeting Mr. Jackson 
 of the Bank. He'll be coming out about now. And 
 you needn't blush, Gertie; you know you're just dying 
 to see him. I don't mind a bit," declared Miss Nora 
 with characteristic frankness, " for I rather think I've 
 got him on a string." 
 
 But Gertie blushed a great deal; for although Miss 
 Nora was quite unaware of it, she had long worshiped 
 from afar at Mr. Jackson's shrine, and even her timid 
 nature was a little stirred by the unconscious challenge. 
 And so when they did meet the cashier she blushed 
 furiously again, but found enough courage for a shy 
 glance, full in his eyes as he shook hands with her. It 
 was not without its effect either. Mr. Jackson, who 
 had quite resented her presence when he had seen the 
 two girls coming, instead of walking on Miss Nora's 
 side, as he had instantly determined on doing, was im- 
 polite enough to take up his position between the two, 
 and set off down the road in the state of exaltation com- 
 mon to young men who feel themselves competed for. 
 
 But his state of bliss was not to endure for long. 
 
 It happened that Johnny Raheny, the blacksmith's 
 man, had spent the previous night assisting at a wake. 
 And as the assistance required of the participants in 
 such a solemnity, with the exception of the corpse, is 
 usually confined to the consumption of strong waters, it 
 is not surprising that Mr. Raheny had found it neces- 
 sary to indulge in a short sleep in a haystack before pre- 
 senting himself for his daily labors. Unfortunately for 
 Johnny's pay-sheet for that week, a half-pint bottle of 
 whisky had accompanied him to his slumbers, and al- 
 though he had awakened several times in the course of 
 the day, the contents of the bottle had prevailed against 
 the spirit of wakefulness until about the time of Mr. 
 Jackson's meeting with the two girls, with the result
 
 150 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 that as Johnny emerged from the field in which his hay- 
 stack had been built he almost bumped into the party 
 of three. 
 
 Now it was Johnny's misfortune that although the 
 stupidest and most tongue-tied of mortals in the pres- 
 ence of female flesh when he was sober, in his cups he was 
 a little given to being amorous. And when his eyes 
 fell on Miss Nora Normanby, who was nearest him, he 
 straightway lurched across the road and laid hold of 
 her arm. 
 
 " Ye come for a walk 'th me, Miss Nora? " he hic- 
 cuped, with a heavy stagger that almost drove the whole 
 line into the opposite ditch. 
 
 All the chivalry in Mr. Jackson came to the top with 
 a rush. Alone, the consideration of Johnny's supe- 
 rior weight and strength would have impelled him to 
 diplomacy in any dispute ; accompanied by one girl a 
 good deal would have depended on the girl ; for, after all, 
 a blacksmith is an ugly customer in a row ; but in the 
 presence of two, and one of them Miss Nora Normanby, 
 what were a couple of stones' weight to a young man 
 of spirit? Besides, as Mr. Jackson's subconscious self 
 told him, Johnny was undeniably drunk. 
 
 " Drop that young lady's arm at once," cried Mr. 
 Jackson fiercely, buttoning his coat. 
 
 But Miss Nora was not at all perturbed. She dis- 
 engaged her arm adroitly, and stepped between the two. 
 
 " Don't be a madhead, Jacks," she said in an under- 
 tone. " I can manage Johnny all right. Don't you 
 see he's drunk. Look here, Johnny " she avoided a 
 second attempt to take her arm " you're drunk, don't 
 you know that ? " 
 
 Johnny paused for a moment and scratched his head. 
 
 " That's right, Miss Nora," he said suddenly, as one 
 to whom a sudden revelation has been accorded. 
 " That's right," he said again, wagging his head in 
 solemn conviction, " 'm as dhrunk as a fiddler."
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 151 
 
 " Very well," continued Miss Nora in a severely prac- 
 tical tone, " what you want is a good sleep." 
 
 " Miss Nora," inquired Johnny with an expression of 
 bemused astonishment, " 5 ve you ever been drunk be- 
 fore?" 
 
 " I have not, Johnny," answered Miss Nora, " but I 
 know what's good for those that are. Come along now 
 to Denis's by the back way here and have a good snooze. 
 There's a nice comfortable place behind the forge fire " 
 Mr. Jackson started " and I'll not let you be dis- 
 turbed." 
 
 Miss Nora's air of calm authority completely dom- 
 inated Johnny. 
 
 " Right y'are, M's Nora," he said submissively. 
 " I'll have sleep in the forge fire. 'M as dhrunk as a 
 fiddler ? " he queried, blinking at her. 
 
 " You're as drunk as a whole orchestra of fiddlers, 
 Johnny," responded Miss Nora cheerfully. " Come 
 along now," as Johnny poised himself before taking 
 wing. 
 
 " You give me n'arm down the forge," demanded 
 Johnny, after two false starts. 
 
 " Of course I will, Johnny," said Miss Nora. " Off 
 we go, now." 
 
 She linked her arm under Johnny's after a delighted 
 glance at Mr. Jackson's face of horror ; and the pair set 
 off zigag down the side lane that led to the forge. 
 
 Mr. Jackson, who had been hovering round in angry 
 indecision during the colloquy, looked after them 
 blankly, and then turned to his companion for coun- 
 sel. 
 
 At that moment a heavy stumble on Johnny's part 
 nearly proved fatal to the equilibrium of himself and his 
 escort. 
 
 Miss Woodburn clasped her hands convulsively. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Jackson ! " she cried, " can't you save Nora 
 from that dreadful man? "
 
 152 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 All the Sir Lancelot arose again instantly in Mr. 
 Jackson. 
 
 " I'll teach the scoundrel manners," he ground out 
 between his teeth, and strode after the pair. " Drop 
 that young lady's arm this instant, you drunken scoun- 
 drel," he cried, seizing Johnny by the collar, and shak- 
 ing him as far as the disparity in their respective 
 weights permitted. 
 
 " Stop it, Jacks ! Don't be a fool ! " cried Miss Nora 
 in alarm. But the harm was done. With a growl of 
 rage Johnny shook himself free. A swing of his power- 
 ful right arm took the cashier somewhere about the neck, 
 and overwhelmed him into the ditch, whither he was 
 immediately followed by Johnny, from the momentum of 
 his own blow. 
 
 In an instant nothing was to be seen but the whirling 
 arms and legs of a violent and highly unscientific com- 
 bat. Johnny from his potations could realize nothing 
 but that he was in close proximity to a hostile force, at 
 which he struck vigorously with hands and feet, while 
 Mr. Jackson, his blood fairly up, retaliated vigorously 
 in kind. The situation was further complicated by the 
 intervention of Miss Normanby's terrier, which, after a 
 barking skirmish, during which he vainly tried to distin- 
 guish friend from foe, cast hesitation to the winds, 
 plunged joyfully into the fray and began to harry both 
 parties indiscriminately. 
 
 Meantime Miss Nora, after a momentary pause of 
 dismay, had recovered her customary self-posses- 
 sion. 
 
 " Run for Denis, quick," she cried to her shrieking 
 companion. " Denis, the blacksmith, you little fool," 
 shaking the terrified Miss Woodburn. " Run like light- 
 ning ! " Miss Nora called after her, and turned swiftly 
 to the scene of battle. A sudden tweak by the tail 
 landed the astonished Irish terrier over the hedge into 
 the adjoining field; and then seizing one of Mr. Jack-
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 153 
 
 son's violently agitated legs Miss Nora drew him dexter- 
 ously out of Johnny's reach. 
 
 " Come on, Jacks," she cried, as he scrambled to his 
 feet, " make for the forge with me. Denis is coming." 
 
 But Mr. Jackson was primitive man again. 
 
 " Let me go, Nora," he stuttered, brushing her aside ; 
 " let me at him ! " 
 
 " Stop now, Jacks, have some sense," cried Miss 
 Nora, and caught at his coat-tails. Unluckily for the 
 cashier she detained him long enough to allow Johnny, 
 already on his knees, to regain his feet. This time 
 Johnny's right-arm swing had more success. The ill- 
 starred Mr. Jackson smitten by a thunderbolt on the 
 point of the jaw whirled half round, fell heavily on the 
 laneway, and lay there, while Johnny, inflamed with rage 
 and revenge, made a headlong rush for Miss Nora. 
 
 The girl at once recognized her danger. For the first 
 time during the scene her nerve gave way and she ran 
 white-faced and slightly sobbing in the direction of the 
 blacksmith's, Johnny thundering in her rear. But a 
 few strides showed her that she had easily the pace of 
 her pursuer; and she had almost regained her self-pos- 
 session when, flying round a bend of the lane, she ran 
 into the arms of Mr. Wildridge. 
 
 " Turn," she panted, disengaging herself from the 
 clasp in which the manager was, perhaps absent-mind- 
 edly, retaining her. " Johnny Raheny's after me, 
 and he's drunk. Make for the forge, and he'll follow 
 us." 
 
 " That's all right, Miss Normanby," said the mana- 
 ger easily. " You run down to the forge and I'll inter- 
 view Master Johnny." 
 
 Miss Nora's sorely tried patience gave way. She 
 stamped her foot furiously. 
 
 " You old fool," she stormed, " he's half killed poor 
 Mr. Jackson already, and he'll eat you. Run ; here he's 
 coming ! Well, if you won't I will." And off she set.
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 But a certain respect for the manager's misguided 
 courage caused her to look back from a safe distance. 
 She was just in time to see Johnny, rejoicing in a new 
 victim, discharge one of his famous swings, this time a 
 left-hander, at his fresh adversary. Miss Nora closed 
 her eyes, and thereby missed the manager's neat duck 
 that caused Johnny's fist to hiss harmlessly over his 
 head. When she opened them the manager and Johnny 
 were coming towards her in apparent amity. She 
 waited tiptoe for flight, till they were within speaking 
 distance, and heard the manager's calm conversational 
 tones. 
 
 " You will observe, Mr. Raheny," he was saying, 
 " that by grasping your waistcoat with my right hand I 
 make a fulcrum of my right arm, and clasping your left 
 hand in mine in my present affectionate manner I am 
 enabled to give it a tweak that is calculated to give a 
 good deal more satisfaction to me than to you. For in- 
 stance," said the manager. Johnny gave a squawk of 
 anguish. " Painful, isn't it ? " inquired the manager. 
 " It's meant to be. The trick is an instance of jiu-jitsu, 
 a form of self-defense invented, I understand, by the 
 Japanese. I can break your arm if you like, you 
 drunken dog," said the manager with sudden venom, 
 " and if you utter another foul word in the presence of 
 this young lady, I will. Behold the captive of my bow 
 and spear, Miss Normanby," he called out, " or rather 
 of my strategy. The triumph of skill over brute force, 
 Ulysses and the Cyclops." 
 
 " Only I hope you haven't put his eye out," said Miss 
 Normanby, who had browsed in her father's library to 
 an extent that would have astonished the manager. 
 
 " Good Lord," exclaimed Mr. Wildridge in delighted 
 astonishment, " you don't mean to say you've read the 
 Odyssey ! " 
 
 " Parts of it," answered Miss Nora, slightly suffused 
 in the face. " Oh, look out, Mr. Wildridge ! "
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 155 
 
 The manager in his admiration of Miss Normanby's 
 unexpected classical attainments had incautiously re- 
 laxed his grasp. Instantly Johnny tore himself free 
 and launched a ponderous right fist. It was to his 
 undoing. The manager neatly side-stepped the blow. 
 Smack went his left on Johnny's jaw, and down went 
 Johnny in a motionless heap. 
 
 " Don't be alarmed, Miss Normanby," said the man- 
 ager, coolly turning his victim on his back, and loosen- 
 ing his muffler ; " he'll come round in a moment. He's 
 just gone down to the nether regions for a little while. 
 I didn't hit him too hard. But my smattering of the 
 classics will be the ruin of me some time or another. 
 Here's Denis," he cried with some relief. " We'll hand 
 his wandering sheep over to him, and go to look for Mr. 
 Jackson. Look here, Denis, I'm surprised that a man 
 of your experience would employ a journeyman with 
 such a poor head for drink." 
 
 " He's been at a wake, Mr. Wildridge," said the 
 blacksmith apologetically, after a pause for breath. 
 
 " He'll be at another very soon, if he doesn't mend his 
 ways," said the manager ; " and one he'll keep teetotal 
 at too. Lift his head a little more." 
 
 " I believe you've killed him," whispered Miss Nora, 
 very white in the face. 
 
 " Not a bit of it, Miss Nora," said the blacksmith 
 with great unconcern. " It's the big, thick neck of him. 
 A bull-necked individual like himself should niver taste 
 dhrink ; for if he falls he near sthrangles himself ; f orby 
 that with the short gullet of him he doesn't get half the 
 good of a drop that an ordinary man would. He's com- 
 ing round now." 
 
 And indeed Johnny after a few struggles did sit up 
 and look around him stupidly. 
 
 " Get away on down to the forge, you," said the 
 blacksmith sternly, " and lie down in the corner." 
 
 The voice of recognized authority prevailed.
 
 156 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 Johnny heaved up his huge bulk and shambled off 
 towards the forge. 
 
 " I'd better be after him," said the blacksmith. 
 " Wee Miss Woodburn is down there, and if Johnny 
 comes on she'll go out of her wits. Herself here," nod- 
 ding at Miss Nora, " isn't as easy frightened. I'm 
 say in', Mr. Wildridge," said the blacksmith, affecting a 
 strategical movement of escape, " if ye want a tight girl 
 to help ye to fill that big Bank House of yours For 
 the love of heaven, Miss Nora, don't clod ! " And Denis 
 took to his heels. But too late. A fair-sized pebble 
 took him violently on one of his calves. 
 
 " And I'll say this for her," he called from a safe dis- 
 tance, as he hopped round on one leg, " though she has 
 lamed me for life : she's the only girl in the country can 
 throw a stone. If there's iver throuble between ye give 
 in at wanst. The young lady'll be after ye in a minit," 
 he bellowed as he disappeared. 
 
 " I say," remarked Miss Nora to her companion, " if 
 you're at all shy " 
 
 " I wish to heaven I was," returned the manager with 
 regret. " I'd be a good ten years younger." 
 
 " Do you know, you're not nearly as old as I 
 thought," said Miss Nora, appraising him frankly. 
 She paused for a moment. " Look here, I want to have 
 it out with you. But gracious ! " she cried, " I've for- 
 gotten all about poor Jacks. Here's Gertie. Hurry, 
 Gertie, till we see if Mr. Jackson is hurt." 
 
 But half-way to the scene of the outbreak of war they 
 met Mr. Jackson coming along slowly, and apparently 
 not much the worse. Still, he was pale, and rather weak 
 about the knees ; and after a council it was decided, in 
 spite of his protest, to escort him to his lodgings and 
 leave him there. 
 
 The manager, bethinking himself at the moment more 
 of the strategy of his youth than of the wisdom of his 
 maturity, abandoned Miss Nora to his cashier in such
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 157 
 
 a very pointed manner that she naturally found it in- 
 cumbent on her to be rather cool to the damaged hero. 
 Mr. Jackson, feeling ill-used, was obliged to turn faint 
 after a few steps, whereupon her friend Gertie hurried 
 up so solicitously that Miss Nora at once insisted on 
 taking his arm till he reached his lodgings ; with the re- 
 sult that news of the engagement of the couple was given 
 out definitely in that quarter of the town, and spread 
 furiously till it encountered a confused report of battle 
 and murder, the death of Denis O'Flaherty, and the 
 elopement of Johnny Raheny with Miss Gertie Wood- 
 burn, that contended against it into the small hours of 
 the morning, and kept some of the gossips of Portna- 
 muck awake all night. 
 
 Meantime the four had arrived at Mr. Jackson's 
 lodgings. 
 
 " Well, so long, Jacks," said Miss Normanby. " I'm 
 jolly glad you're not any the worse. But look here, 
 you pick a smaller man next time you want to fight. I 
 can't afford to lose an old pal." 
 
 And Miss Nora patted the cashier's back with an af- 
 fectionate comradeship that at any other time would 
 have delighted his soul. 
 
 But Mr. Jackson felt a little ill and shaken, and his 
 head was aching. He pined for sentiment. 
 
 He was not to go unsatisfied. As the manager and 
 Miss Nora turned away Miss Woodburn caught the 
 cashier's sleeve timidly in a little rush of emotion. 
 
 " I think you are just the bravest man I ever knew," 
 she breathed hurriedly, cast a shy little glance in Mr. 
 Jackson's face, and sped after the others. 
 
 It is scarcely to be wondered at if in Mr. Jackson's 
 unsettled slumbers after an early going to bed, a vision 
 of brown eyes sometimes predominated over the blue. 
 
 The manager, who had lived down the age when mere 
 shyness in a girl is attractive, decided that the proper 
 course was to leave Miss Gertrude Woodburn home first,
 
 158 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 and set off down the street so elated at being in the com- 
 pany of two good-looking girls under twenty that his 
 conversation fairly scintillated, and, strong in the 
 safety of numbers, demeaned himself so gallantly to- 
 wards his partners that Miss Woodburn, between the 
 charms of his badinage and the recollection of Mr. 
 Jackson's youthful good looks, definitely arrived at the 
 conclusion that one way or another a bank man was her 
 fate. 
 
 Miss Normanby was less boisterous than usual, and 
 on the way back from delivering her friend at home con- 
 tinued almost silent until she and her escort were clear 
 of the town. 
 
 " Look here now, Mr. Wildridge," she burst out sud- 
 denly, " I want to have it out with you." 
 
 " Come along then," said the manager meekly ; " I'm 
 listening in all humility." 
 
 61 We'll have the nice part first," said Miss Nora. 
 
 " That's very good of you," answered the manager. 
 " But don't make it too nice ; for then the nasty part 
 will be all the nastier." 
 
 " You'd better be serious," said Miss Nora warn- 
 ingly ; " for I'm serious at present, and you might never 
 catch me serious again. I'm not much troubled that 
 way." 
 
 " I'm a regular Sphinx," replied the manager, assum- 
 ing an air of great gravity. 
 
 " Well, then," said Miss Nora, " first of all I'm sorry 
 about the rat." 
 
 " I was a bit sorry for him myself at first," said the 
 manager, " not having been used to rats before. I am 
 afraid he wasn't given all his home comforts. But Jane 
 and I did our best ; and I think in the end he was quite 
 sorry to leave." 
 
 " I say, Mr. Wildridge," demanded Miss Nora, " do 
 you want me to apologize or do you not? " 
 
 " I do not, then," answered the manager. " I didn't
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 159 
 
 mind in the least, rather liked it in fact. Not perhaps 
 that I'd have chosen a rat myself ; but I'd rather you'd 
 send me a rat than nothing." 
 
 " And you weren't mad ? " asked Miss Nora. 
 
 " I was a trifle puzzled," answered the manager. " I 
 used to know something of the language of flowers in 
 my callow days ; but the language of animals is beyond 
 me even now. What exactly does a gift of a rat indi- 
 cate ? I'm afraid," he said, shaking his head mourn- 
 fully, " it's not a token of goodwill." 
 
 " It wasn't this time, anyway," admitted Miss Nora. 
 " I just sent it to spite you because I heard you were 
 afraid of rats." (" H'm," thought the manager, " evi- 
 dently all I say to my cashier goes to Miss Nora.") 
 " I was dancing mad with you," declared Miss Nora. 
 " And I'm not too pleased with you yet." 
 
 " Why ? " asked the manager in astonishment. 
 " What on earth have I ever done to you ? " 
 
 " You refused to lend me fifty pounds," said Miss 
 Nora. The recollection of her wrongs returned to her 
 and she looked at him with a sparkle of indignation in 
 her eyes. 
 
 " I don't remember it," said the manager plaintively. 
 
 " Well, you told Mr. Jackson to refuse me," said Miss 
 Nora, " and that's just as bad. It's worse," she said 
 warmly. " It's sneakier." 
 
 " Am I condemned without a hearing? " asked the 
 manager humbly, " or may I defend myself? " 
 
 " Fire away then," said Miss Nora, " but I won't 
 promise to believe in you, mind." 
 
 The manager hastily rearranged his recollections of 
 the incident, with a view perhaps rather to effect than 
 to veracity, reflected on his listener's age and what 
 glimpses he had received of her character, and resolved 
 on a frontal attack. 
 
 " First of all then," he said, " I expected you would 
 come in to the office."
 
 160 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 " But how " began Miss Nora, a little consciously. 
 
 '* Well," said the manager, " Mr. Jackson had told 
 me the facts ; that your father was coming into quite 
 a large sum of money through his brother, who had some 
 time ago died abroad." 
 
 " But how on earth did Jacks know that ? " demanded 
 Miss Nora, wide-eyed. " I'd never told him a word ; 
 and I'm sure Dad didn't ; for he's been ill for weeks." 
 
 (" The broad facts are as reported," noted the man- 
 ager to himself.) 
 
 " Very likely he had heard only a rumor," he said 
 aloud. " But I thought you had told him. And know- 
 ing that you and he were good chums " 
 
 " Did he tell you that too ? " inquired Miss Nora 
 sharply. 
 
 " No ; that 7 had from rumor," said the manager. 
 " And I assumed that you would, of course, have all the 
 banking part of the business done through our place on 
 account of the lift it would give Mr. Jackson." 
 
 " I wouldn't go to the other Bank for worlds," cried 
 Miss Nora hastily, then blushed darkly as she remem- 
 bered the cause of her vehemence. " But " 
 
 " Just a moment," said the manager. " Then I was 
 a little conceited. I thought that my experience might 
 make me of more value to your father and yourself in a 
 purely business transaction, than my cashier, who is, 
 unfortunately " the manager sighed inwardly 
 " considerably younger than I am ; and asked him to de- 
 tain you till I came back. Of course I foresaw that you 
 would likely need a small advance for preliminary ex- 
 penses lawyer's fees, and so on. I think that was 
 what you said the money was for " 
 
 " I say," remarked Miss Nora unexpectedly, facing 
 him squarely as they stopped at the Rectory gate. 
 " You're a pretty cunning old fox, aren't you ? " 
 
 The manager's laugh rang hearty and unabashed.
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 161 
 
 He leant forward and shook Miss Nora gently by the 
 arms. 
 
 " Sure it's the great girl that you are entirely," he 
 said, smiling down on her. " Call me what you like but 
 old, darlin' dear, and I'll confess to anything short of 
 manslaughter. But if you'd come in to me I'd have 
 given you the money all the same." 
 
 " Would you, though, really," said Miss Nora ; 
 " really and truly? " 
 
 The voice of prudence spoke far back in the mana- 
 ger's brain ; but he rejoiced to find the warning drowned 
 by his hurrying blood. 
 
 " And if you looked up at me like that wouldn't I 
 give you the soles off my brogues," he said. 
 
 Some little time later the manager was walking pen- 
 sively towards the town. The slightly lingering grasp 
 of Miss Nora's warm young fingers still tingled in his 
 palm. 
 
 " Bad luck to it," he said to himself with a kind of 
 satisfied remorse, " it takes a man longer to learn sense 
 than I thought. But Lord, hasn't she got a pair of blue 
 eyes." 
 
 He groaned softly, and slackened his pace still more. 
 Then he quickened it again, and stepped out smartly 
 homewards. 
 
 " Anyhow," he said briskly. " I'm pretty sure of the 
 account now."
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 IT is probable that Miss Woodburn's shyness would 
 have prevented her from following up immediately 
 her timid attack on Mr. Jackson's heart; but in 
 any case that course was rendered impossible by her 
 being dispatched by her mother to visit an aunt. 
 
 Then the cashier encountered Miss Nora in the town 
 some time after the Johnny Raheny episode, and she 
 greeted him with such an air of nonchalance that his 
 affections, already relieved of any disturbing influence, 
 at once swung back to normal. 
 
 He made several attempts to discuss the new develop- 
 ment in the office; but was puzzled to find his chief 
 smitten with a sudden desire for silence and hard 
 work due, if he had known, to a mingling of alarm 
 and pricking of conscience. 
 
 Outside, in the town and country, matters began to 
 hum in connexion with the new woolen factory. Mi- 
 chael Brannegan and his colleagues threw aside their 
 reticence. It was publicly announced that a chartered 
 accountant from Belfast was shortly to be summoned 
 to their councils, and that a public meeting in connexion 
 with the new project might be expected any time. 
 
 These decisive steps were correctly attributed by the 
 local gossips to the visit of a deputation consisting 
 of Big Michael and his cronies to the Rectory ; the 
 news of which, though it was made after dark, trans- 
 pired within half an hour of the party's arrival at the 
 Rectory gate. 
 
 It was discovered also that shortly afterwards Mr. 
 Berryman had made an evening call at the Rectory. 
 
 162
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 163 
 
 Later reports said that he had not succeeded in getting 
 in, having been repulsed at the hall door with some con- 
 tumely by Miss Nora herself. 
 
 No news, however, came to hand of a counter-move 
 on the part of Mr. Wildridge; and unfavorable com- 
 ments were made on his quiescence in the face of his 
 rival's energy. 
 
 The cobbler, a hot partisan of Mr. Jackson, early 
 noted the discontinuance of Miss Normanby's visits to 
 the Bank, and at once communicated this disquieting 
 fact to his wife, who, being also a warm Jacksonite, 
 was stung to make a diversion on behalf of the cashier. 
 
 It happened that Mr. Berryman, in active pursuit of 
 popularity and the business of the new woolen factory, 
 had quite effectively kissed the children of a number of 
 the humbler possible shareholders in the proposed com- 
 pany, and sent them home to acquaint their mothers 
 that he had done so. 
 
 Unfortunately, he committed the mistake of kissing 
 some of the cobbler's children, and their warm-hearted 
 mother speedily discovering from them the names of the 
 others kissed, at once made a tour of their households, 
 and denounced Mr. Berryman so convincingly as a slip- 
 pery old lickspittle that the North-Eastern Bank was 
 thought to have lost considerable ground in that neigh- 
 borhood. 
 
 The chartered accountant, when he arrived, turned 
 out to be a very young man. Scenting a good con- 
 nexion, he had, as Michael Brannegan astutely foresaw, 
 not only accepted a ridiculously small fee, but at once 
 threw himself into a canvass of the district with an en- 
 thusiasm that a more experienced man would have long 
 outgrown. His first visit was to a country public-house 
 that was known to command a large extent of country. 
 Here, finding it necessary to bestow and receive a good 
 deal of hospitality and being a temperate young man, 
 he devoted himself incautiously to the delusive chemical
 
 164 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 vended in such places under the generic title of " wine," 
 and returned to Portnamuck in a condition of close 
 brotherhood with the whole human race. 
 
 Mr. Wildridge, instantly acquainted with his favor- 
 able state of mind by the blacksmith, called on him 
 forthwith. But the chartered accountant, to the man- 
 ager's disgust, proved an unconscious disciple of the 
 ancient Germans, and though showing himself amicably 
 disposed towards the Downshire Bank, or indeed to any 
 bank whose representative might present himself, ob- 
 stinately refused to come to any decision till he had 
 enjoyed a sleep. 
 
 On his awaking, a meeting of the principals was held 
 in Michael's bar-parlor. The question of a bank ac- 
 count was brought up. Mr. Finnegan, with the land- 
 lord's entire concurrence, delivered an oration that 
 lasted through the consumption of three rounds of 
 drinks, and was followed by the seedsman, who, after 
 demonstrating beyond any doubt that the account of 
 the new factory would result in the ultimate bankruptcy 
 of any bank that was foolish enough to accept it, ended 
 by showing the futility of the discussion, since the fac- 
 tory proposal would inevitably end in smoke. Michael, 
 who might be considered an impartial adviser, having 
 sold a case of whisky to each of the local managers dur- 
 ing the chartered accountant's slumbers, enhanced his 
 reputation for wisdom by recommending that both 
 banks should be approached with a view to obtaining the 
 most favorable terms. 
 
 But the blacksmith had been primed by the absent 
 Mr. Wildridge. During the discussion he had allowed 
 his three drinks to remain untasted before him in order 
 to take full advantage of the psychological moment, 
 and, rising after the landlord's speech, he showed so 
 conclusively the necessity of leaving the nomination of a 
 bank to the expected largest shareholder, Mr. Nor- 
 manby, that his motion was carried unanimously.
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 165 
 
 The public meeting was fixed for the following week, 
 the adherence of Mr. Normanby to the project and his 
 promised presence at the meeting disclosed to those who 
 had not formed part of the deputation ; and the assem- 
 bly settled down to spend the balance of the night in 
 drinking success to the new company. 
 
 Mr. Jackson, in the interests of business, spent most 
 of the evening wandering uneasily up and down be- 
 tween Michael Brannegan's and the Rectory gate, and, 
 being on familiar terms with almost every passer-by, 
 was early apprised of the latest developments in the bar- 
 parlor, which Terry, released from his vow of secrecy, 
 had disseminated with even more than his usual assid- 
 uity. 
 
 By ten o'clock, in his anxiety to obtain full particu- 
 lars, the cashier had collected so many different versions 
 that he thought it better to wait for Mr. Finnegan, who 
 was due to pass that way on his journey home, and be- 
 fore he had disentangled the facts from Mr. Finnegan's 
 verbiage it was too late to call at the Bank. So he took 
 himself off to bed, where he passed half the night won- 
 dering why Miss Nora had not confided in him as she 
 had promised, and growing more fond of her every time 
 he recollected how coolly she had greeted him that day 
 in the street. 
 
 Next morning he was up betimes, but unavailingly ; 
 for his landlady, already perturbed by his second early 
 retiral to bed within a week, was so flabbergasted by 
 his punctual appearance for breakfast at the appointed 
 hour of nine o'clock that in her flurry she dropped the 
 tea-pot and its scalding contents on her foot, and in 
 consequence Mr. Jackson after a blasphemous breakfast 
 on bread and butter and cold milk did not arrive at the 
 scene of his duties till almost ten o'clock. 
 
 To his double surprise he found the manager in full 
 possession of the facts and quite calm. 
 
 " Thanks to your influence with Miss Nora," said Mr.
 
 166 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 Wildridge diplomatically, " we are quite sure of both 
 the factory account and her father's, and she is certain 
 to give you full particulars of the inheritance before the 
 meeting." 
 
 " It's queer she hasn't said something to me about it 
 already, sir," said Jackson. " And she was kind of 
 stand-off with me last time we met." 
 
 The manager felt an instant's uneasiness as he recol- 
 lected one or two conversations of which only Miss Nora 
 and himself were aware ; but tried to reassure himself by 
 running over in his mind the substance of them. 
 
 " Don't be upset, my boy," he said. " These are the 
 usual little incidents of a campaign like yours, even with 
 the best of them. Varium et mutabile semper femina 
 ' weemin is very ondependable bein's as an old coun- 
 try friend of mine puts it. Depend upon it Miss Nora 
 means to be particularly nice to you next time. And 
 that next time won't be very far away." 
 
 In confirmation of the manager's psychology, a note 
 was delivered shortly afterwards, asking Mr. Jackson 
 to be sure and call at the Rectory that evening. 
 
 " Didn't I tell you so," said the manager, with less 
 satisfaction, though, than one might have expected. 
 
 " Do you know, Jackson," he added after a monment 
 of meditation, " it's harder than one would think for 
 a man to remember that he's thirty-eight and growing 
 bald." He pulled himself up briskly in answer to his 
 cashier's look of bewilderment. " Now I have a little 
 piece of advice to give you about to-night. So far as 
 the Bank side of things goes all is plain sailing. You 
 have merely to listen to what Miss Nora or her father 
 tells you. You can depend on what either of them says. 
 But there's your own little affair to be looked to. My 
 counsel is, if you get a chance with Miss Nora alone, 
 speak before you hear any particulars of her fortune. 
 Not, mind you, that I think she'd doubt you. But if 
 you put off committing yourself till you are sure she's
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 167 
 
 an heiress you place a card up her sleeve, and later on 
 when you stay out too late at a Masonic dinner, or any 
 other little deception of the kind, such a card has a way 
 of coming down. 
 
 " Of course there's the danger of the fortune turning 
 out to be much less than you believed. But you must 
 run your chance of that. Hang it," said the manager, 
 walking up and down the office in some exaltation, " I'd 
 marry her if she hadn't a penny. That is " - 1 - he put 
 in hastily " if I were your age again. 
 
 " Besides, there's always the danger of some fortune- 
 hunting fellow turning up. There's nobody of the class 
 here at present but your friend Percy, and I don't think 
 you need be afraid of him; but if Miss Nora escapes 
 now, and weathers the romantic age, which she'll do all 
 the quicker now that she has money it's a devilish 
 queer thing, Jackson, and worth investigating, but a 
 girl's seldom romantic unless she's poor begad, she 
 might turn up her nose at a bank clerk. Take my ad- 
 vice," said the manager, with an impressiveness that was 
 perhaps not quite disinterested, " and put your fate be- 
 yond question to-night. If she ever gets out into the 
 big world the men will be after her in droves. And if 
 she's safely engaged it will save many a decent man, 
 maybe even here in Portnamuck, from making a fool of 
 himself." 
 
 " I'll do my best, sir," said Jackson a little dubiously. 
 " But somehow I'm not so sure latterly that I'm as well 
 in there as you think. And she's the very devil for a 
 joke. She might have been only leading me on to make 
 a fool of myself." 
 
 The manager paused in his walk, and looked at Mr. 
 Jackson intently. A slight pucker came between his 
 eyebrows. 
 
 " There's something in what you say, Jackson," he 
 remarked thoughtfully. " The same big lassie could do 
 it. Older and wiser men than you would have trouble
 
 168 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 in holding out against her. Jackson, my son," said the 
 manager earnestly, " marry her as soon as you can. 
 It's your duty towards humanity. A girl like that go- 
 ing about is a public danger." 
 
 " Now you're chaffing me, sir," said Jackson. 
 
 But the manager in his heart was not so sure about it.
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 ABOUT half an hour before the appointed time 
 that night Mr. Jackson set out for the Rec- 
 tory. Passing Big Michael Brannegan's he 
 was hailed by Terry from the sill where he was repairing 
 a window-sash. 
 
 " I see where you're headin' for, Misther Jackson," 
 whispered Terry archly ; " an' you're not makin' much 
 of a mistake. Ye have an oi in your head, now. She's 
 a powerful bit of stuff. Don't be backward wid her, 
 Misther Jackson. Woire into her. That wan niver 
 has been handled before, an' if ye threw an arm round 
 her, bedambut she'd go up a tree afther ye. Don't be 
 offinded, now ; it's good advice I'm givin' ye. An' 
 there's the ha'pence, too, to think about; an' the same 
 is not to be despised. It's a moighty quare thing to 
 think of Mr. Lawrence makin' a fortune," said Terry, 
 descending from his window-sill. " 'Twas a woman was 
 the means of him makin' it, too." 
 
 "How, Terry?" asked Jackson interested. "I've 
 never heard that side of it. Did he marry a woman 
 with mone} 7 ? " 
 
 " He did not thin," answered Terry. " There's two 
 ways, Misther Jackson, of bein' lucky with a woman; 
 the wan is gettin' her, an' the other is not gettin' her. 
 'Twas the second kind of luck fell Mr. Lawrence's way. 
 This was how it was." Terry peeped cautiously into 
 the bar, and then proceeded to light a short clay pipe. 
 " There was a little blade of a barmaid here when I was 
 a boy cleanin' knives a very gingery piece of stuff 
 she was and the whole menkind av the disthrict was 
 
 169
 
 170 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 sniffin' afther her, an' divil a man wantin' to marry her 
 but the wan man, a big well-to-do young farmer up in 
 the hills, that had got a dale of money from his father, 
 and moighty little brains. The little divil would have 
 married him, too, an' all was as good as settled, whin 
 here doesn't me bould Mr. Lawrence come on the scene, 
 an' before a month wasn't she runnin' afther him loike 
 a dog. It wasn't long till people was sayin', 
 well, nivir mind what they were sayin', but it was 
 the gospel truth anyway an' it wasn't very much 
 longer till it come to the sweetheart's ears. He had been 
 vexed before, an' a kind of suspicious wid the weddin' 
 still bein' put off an' off ; an' whin he heard this, bedam- 
 but he went black mad. The man that told it to him 
 came into the bar aftherwards for a dhrink, an' the 
 glass was shakin' in his hand. But what does the 
 farmer do? Divil a word he says to herself, good or 
 bad, but goes home for the double-barreled gun and 
 waits for Mr. Lawrence at his own gate. He didn't 
 hide or lay low for him at all, but stood there in the 
 middle of the road, wid both barrels at full cock. An' 
 'twas the mercy of Providence he did, for somebody seen 
 him an' warned Mr. Lawrence in toime. The nixt word 
 of Mr. Lawrence was that he was out of the counthry. 
 He was about roipe for lavin' anyway, be rayson of the 
 power of debt he was undher ; an' I suppose some of the 
 friends that would rather he'd be hanged in America 
 than shot at home, gave him a bit of a lift ; but anyhow 
 that was the last of him, till now he's goin' to make the 
 fortunes of the whole of us. An' bedambut," said 
 Terry, climbing on his window-sill with surprising agil- 
 ity, " there's the boss has been watchin' me from the bar. 
 Good luck to ye, Misther Jackson ; an' don't be afraid to 
 put the paws on her ! " 
 
 Inspired by this confirmation of his chief's advice, 
 Mr. Jackson strode manfully up the Rectory path. 
 But the door was opened to him by such a serious Miss
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 171 
 
 Nora that his own particular concerns temporarily 
 vanished from his thoughts. 
 
 " What on earth's wrong, Nora," he cried. " Is 
 your father ill? " 
 
 " Oh no, Jacks," she answered ; " Dad's all right, ex- 
 cept for his cold, and that's nearly better. But look 
 here, you know what I promised to tell you? " 
 
 Jackson nodded. " Well, I'm in an awful worry 
 about it. Wait though. Come in till I light the lamp." 
 
 Mr. Jackson made his way into the dark hall, and 
 bumped into something hard. 
 
 " Steady on, that's the table," said Miss Nora out of 
 the darkness. " Watch you don't upset the lamp. 
 Feel for the matches like a good boy." 
 
 Mr. Jackson's hands wandered gropingly over the 
 table. Presently they encountered Miss Nora's on the 
 same quest ; and on the moment Terry's counsel flashed 
 across his mind. Now or never was the time, he felt. 
 He moved along till he brushed lightly against his com- 
 panion, and made a swift pass with his right arm. A 
 drum was thumping violently in his ears. But it was 
 not beating to victory. Miss Nora had moved in the 
 opposite direction, and his arm encircled empty space. 
 He cursed himself for his feeling of relief. Shame sup- 
 plied in part the lack of ardor. He moved again to- 
 wards Miss Nora, and stretched out a hand uncertainly. 
 Alas! it touched the globe of the lamp. He heard 
 the glass ring on the table as it overbalanced, and 
 clutched too late at the rolling cylinder. There was a 
 crash. 
 
 " Well, bad luck to you, Jacks, for a clumsy pig," 
 cried Miss Nora with a swift return to her usual raci- 
 ness of expression, " and that's the only globe in the 
 house. Here, never mind, we must go in to Dad. 
 There's his voice. Listen, Jacks he's going to tell 
 you the whole story. Don't question anything he says, 
 and when you're going I'll leave you to the gate and tell
 
 172 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 you what's bothering me. All right, Dad, here's Mr. 
 Jackson." 
 
 Mr. Normanby received the cashier with old-fash- 
 ioned courtesy, and apologized for his dressing-gown. 
 
 " You see my cold is still clinging to me, Mr. Jack- 
 son," he said. " I'm not so robust as I used to be a 
 bit of a crock as you modern young men would say, 
 eh? " 
 
 And indeed the old man looked so fragile and trans- 
 parent that Mr. Jackson hastened to assure him that he 
 had never seen him looking so well; for which he was 
 rewarded by a grateful gleam from Miss Nora's blue 
 eyes. 
 
 " Yes, I think I've weathered it this time," answered 
 Mr. Normanby ; " an old salt, Mr. Jackson, but a little 
 buffeted by the waves of time. And to pursue my met- 
 aphor I think I have safely made a haven of prosperity. 
 It was to tell you of it that I took perhaps a liberty 
 in summoning you here to-night. My good fortune is 
 no longer prospective, Mr. Jackson ; it has materialized. 
 And as I intend that your Bank shall have some small 
 share in my good luck, I thought it right to make you 
 acquainted with the particulars of the blessing that has 
 been vouchsafed me. For it is a blessing," he continued 
 half to himself, " to have it in one's power to be a source 
 of blessing to others. I beg your pardon, sir," he said, 
 looking a little dazedly at the cashier ; " I was dreaming 
 again, I fear." 
 
 But Mr. Jackson also had to recall his wandering at- 
 tention. He had been covertly studying Miss Nora as 
 the rays of the lamp fell on her face turned earnestly 
 towards her father, and making up his mind that after 
 all there was nothing to compare with blue eyes and fair 
 curls. 
 
 " I must make a confession, Mr. Jackson," went on 
 Mr. Normanby. " I was so much taken with the cour- 
 tesy of your new manager that it was at first my inten-
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 173 
 
 tion to communicate with him ; and indeed as a matter of 
 etiquette perhaps I should have done so. But Nora 
 here was insistent that I should tell you the story first. 
 I think," said Mr. Normanby with a shade of archness, 
 " that Nora is a little impressed with your business qual- 
 ifications." 
 
 Miss Nora blushed at the speech, and Mr. Jackson, 
 such is the inconsistency of our nature, had a sudden 
 realization of the charms of liberty and brown eyes. 
 
 " Hadn't you better begin the story, Dad dear," said 
 Miss Nora. " You know there's quite a lot of it, and I 
 can't let you tire yourself." 
 
 " A tyrant, Mr. Jackson," said her father, smiling 
 fondly at her, and making room as she sat down on a 
 stool at his side ; " a great big tyrant. But an affec- 
 tionate big tyrant, too," and he patted her curls, while 
 the cashier, who expected a grimace, beheld the sur- 
 prising spectacle of tomboy Miss Nora snuggling up to 
 her father and openly worshiping him. His manager's 
 eulogies rushed on his mind again, and he superfluously 
 consigned the hall-lamp globe to perdition. 
 
 " Yes," said Mr. Normanby, " it's a long story, and 
 I'm afraid I'm a tedious and wandering story-teller. 
 Light your pipe, Mr. Jackson well, a cigarette 
 then some of these days Nora and I will be having 
 cigars for our special friends, eh, lassie ? and I'll 
 begin."
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 MY brother Lawrence, Mr. Jackson," began the 
 old gentleman, " was considerably older than 
 I, and of a much more daring and romantic 
 character. He was a fine, handsome man with a 
 dashing, reckless way with him that covered, I am 
 afraid, a good many little weaknesses. Indeed, my dear 
 young friend, I fear it was his failings that endeared 
 him to the people generally. We Irish have always a 
 soft spot for the scapegrace. If you have ever heard 
 
 him spoken of " 
 
 *' Indeed I have, sir," said Jackson, " many a time." 
 " Then I am afraid it was not on account of his works 
 of grace," said Mr. Normanby. 
 
 " Only the virtues of the just 
 
 Smell sweet and blossom in their dust. 
 
 So says the poet, or something like it. I am afraid he 
 was an English poet," said Mr. Normanby, smiling a 
 little. 
 
 " But you are not to think that my poor brother was 
 a wicked man. Far from it. Foolish indeed he was, 
 and wild, but tender-hearted and chivalrous to a fault. 
 It was through his fine feeling of chivalry, Mr. Jack- 
 son, that we lost him at last. 
 
 " It happened that there came to the hotel now owned 
 by Mr. Brannegan a young lady in the capacity of a 
 barmaid, in short" ("Good Lord," said Mr. Jack- 
 son to himself, with a glance at Nora) " and my 
 brother," went on Mr. Normanby unnoticing, " became 
 
 174
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 175 
 
 acquainted with her. He was not, as you may have 
 gathered, Mr. Jackson, a teetotaller I hope, my dear 
 young friend, that you will mark this ; and the ac- 
 quaintance grew and ripened into friendship; and ulti- 
 mately " Mr. Jackson felt his neck turning red 
 " into love, on my brother's part at least. I cannot un- 
 derstand how a Normanby could have so far forgot- 
 ten himself. Nay," said the old man, checking himself, 
 " how can I say that? Are we not all one flesh? It is 
 enough, my dear young man, that he loved the girl. He 
 had reason also to believe that his love was returned, or 
 thought he had, and was on the point of declaring his 
 feelings, when fate when perhaps Providence, inter- 
 vened. 
 
 " There was a young farmer resident in the neighbor- 
 hood " Mr. Jackson sat up quickly " and un- 
 known to almost everybody he, too, had fallen in love 
 with this girl. It seems that she had smiled on his suit 
 in secret until my brother began to make advances, but 
 then cooled towards him. 
 
 " The poor fellow fell into an almost lunatic state of 
 despair, and at last formed a dreadful resolution. He 
 armed himself with a double-barreled gun, and took up 
 his position at our gate my father was Rector here 
 before me, Mr. Jackson determined to commit sui- 
 cide before the man whom he believed to be his undoing. 
 My brother came along ; the farmer uttered a few words 
 of, I fear indeed my brother told me so blasphe- 
 mous reproach, and put the muzzle to his head." Miss 
 Nora grasped her father's arm tightly. " But just as 
 he was about to pull the trigger, Lawrence sprang at 
 him and tore the gun from his hands." Miss Nora's 
 grasp relaxed. " The poor fellow glared at him for a 
 moment, then burst into tears. My brother brought 
 him into our summer-house and patiently drew the 
 whole story from him. Then he exacted a promise from 
 the man that he would not seek to do himself further in-
 
 176 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 jury for seven days, and sent him home. That night 
 my poor brother spent walking up and down his bed- 
 room in the extremity of mental agony he told me 
 so and next morning he came to me. He had won the 
 fight and triumphed over himself. With a spirit of 
 chivalry and self-sacrifice, that more than redeemed all 
 his former weakness and indulgence, he had resolved to 
 give the girl up to his rival. But he felt that he could 
 not bear to witness the consummation of his sacrifice. 
 He must leave the country ; and he came to me for 
 help er financial help." 
 
 Mr. Jackson smiled, caught Miss Nora's eye, and in- 
 stantly looked grave again. 
 
 " I may say, Mr. Jackson," went on Mr. Normanby 
 with some hesitation, " that this was not my brother's 
 first appeal to me for assistance ; and indeed I sor- 
 row to think of it now I had come at last to refuse 
 him. But in the face of such nobility, such self-abnega- 
 tion, what could I do but what I did. I gave him prac- 
 tically all I possessed " Miss Nora again pressed her 
 father's arm, but softly " and to-day I regret even 
 the little that I retained. He left me. I have never seen 
 him since. I shall never see him again, Mr. Jackson." 
 
 The old man's voice broke, and he was silent for a 
 little. Mr. Jackson wished fervently that he had been 
 within kicking distance of the prodigal. 
 
 " And now comes the amazing part of the story," 
 resumed Mr. Normanby, waking suddenly out of his 
 reverie. " Whether from the new surroundings and 
 companions, or, as I prefer to think, from the purifying 
 influence of a great sacrifice, my brother's whole char- 
 acter suddenly changed. You will hear later how I 
 learned this. From an idle scapegrace he turned into a 
 steady, industrious man. It is true that the spirit of 
 adventure had not quitted him ; for shortly after his ar- 
 rival in America " (" Then it was America," thought 
 Jackson) he embarked with some chance acquaint-
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 177 
 
 ances on a gold-discovering expedition. The adventur- 
 ers were successful, Mr. Jackson, successful beyond 
 their wildest hopes. In a few years' time they had 
 gained fortunes that even in that land of wealth would 
 be considered almost ' beyond the dreams of avarice ' 
 you remember Dr. Johnson's saying? " 
 
 Mr. Jackson smiled vaguely, but discreetly remained 
 silent. 
 
 " Ah, I see you do," said Mr. Normanby. " I'm de- 
 lighted, my dear young friend. A taste for good read- 
 ing is a humanizing and refining influence. I love to 
 see a young man with one of our classics in his hand; 
 and there is none better than Boswell. We must dis- 
 cuss him some of these nights. It's capital, my dear 
 lad, to find you with a real taste for literature." 
 
 Miss Nora, who had some little notion of the range of 
 the cashier's reading, permitted herself a characteristic 
 grin of delight at Mr. Jackson's uneasy squirm. 
 
 " Not," continued Mr. Normanby, " that I would like 
 to see a young man too bookish. But a slight tincture 
 of letters has a sanative influence on the mind. Now 
 here is Nora, who is a little bit doggy aren't you a 
 little bit doggy, too, Mr. Jackson? " Mr. Normanby 
 again looked a trifle arch " and you'd be surprised at 
 what she has read." 
 
 Mr. Normanby would probably have been somewhat 
 surprised himself; and it was Miss Nora's turn to look 
 uneasy. 
 
 " Now, Dad," she said, finger uplifted, " time will 
 soon be up." 
 
 " You see how I am tyrannized over," said Mr. Nor- 
 manby with simulated wrath. " But Nora is quite 
 right. I must get on with my story. Well, Mri Jack- 
 son, as I said, my poor brother's character was suddenly 
 transformed. Nothing, not the wild and lawless beings 
 among whom he was thrown, not the manifold tempta- 
 tions of an almost pagan life, not even wealth itself
 
 178 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 could now tempt him from the path of sobriety and rec- 
 titude. He amassed, as I have said, a huge fortune, 
 and in process of time settled down to enjoy it. 
 
 " He did not marry ; the wound had been too deep to 
 heal lightly till at last the little seed of romance in 
 his heart burst into leaf and flower again. You must 
 not mind my occasional exuberance of language, Mr. 
 Jackson " Mr. Normanby interrupted himself 
 " at my age one sometimes forgets he is not in the 
 pulpit. 
 
 " In short, sir, my brother fell in love again, and with 
 even more than his old intensity of passion. She was 
 a Spaniard, Mr. Jackson, and a lovely and loving crea- 
 ture, as I am informed. My brother was supremely 
 happy in his wedded life. 
 
 " But it was alas ! fated to be short and chequered. 
 
 " His wife was a daughter of an old Spanish noble 
 house, always renowned for their courage and loyalty, 
 and with what I must judge to be a mistaken sense of 
 honor they had thrown in their lot with Don Carlos. 
 Do you know anything of modern Spanish history, Mr. 
 Jackson ? " 
 
 " Not modern" answered the cashier, with the air of 
 one who has squandered his eyesight poring over antique 
 times. 
 
 " I fear I, too, am rather ignorant of it," said Mr. 
 Normanby ; " but it seems that Don Carlos and his 
 followers were rebels against the legitimate throne of 
 Spain, and that my brother's wife had embraced with 
 all the ardor of a Spaniard the cause of the Pretender. 
 It was not sufficient for her fervid loyalty that her fam- 
 ily should have lost life and fortune in the forlorn hope 
 of overturning the Spanish monarchy ; night and day 
 I am but giving life to the meager details vouchsafed 
 me night and day she wearied her husband to throw 
 his wealth into the uneven scales. 
 
 " He loved his wife, he gloried in her loyalty, and his
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 179 
 
 adventurous spirit caught fire. For years after the last 
 rising had failed the devoted couple suffered the exist- 
 ence of the proscribed and hunted, among the rocks and 
 mountains of Spain. Again and again my brother 
 risked his life. 'Nay, he risked what was dearer to him 
 than his own life and lost it. In the act of giving 
 birth to an infant daughter his wife died, almost on the 
 open hill-side. 
 
 " Frantic with grief my ill-fated brother abandoned 
 prudence. Within a month he was captured by the 
 Government, tried, and condemned to imprisonment for 
 twenty-five years in a fortress. 
 
 " In his case perhaps because he was an alien 
 the justice of the country was not cruel. His compara- 
 tively small deposits in the Spanish banks were not 
 seized. His effects after examination were handed over 
 to some species of local military tribunal for safe keep- 
 ing against his coming out of prison ; and, best of all, he 
 was able to secure that his little daughter should be 
 nursed with all tenderness in the military settlement ad- 
 joining the fortress, and ultimately admitted almost 
 daily to lighten his imprisonment. For almost ten 
 years she brought love and joy into the prisoner's weary 
 life, then " Mr. Normanby laid his hand softly on his 
 daughter's, and paused " then she, too, died." 
 
 Mr. Normanby took off his glasses and rubbed them. 
 The cashier, as is usual in such cases, shuffled awkwardly 
 in his chair, and murmured inarticularly. 
 
 " And now to tell you how I became aware of all this," 
 said Mr. Normanby a little more briskly. " Even in 
 the days of his age and misfortune Lawrence still kept 
 his power of charming his fellows. There was a turn- 
 key in the prison, a simple, faithful fellow, and he came 
 to like the poor prisoner, and began to do him little 
 kindnesses, till at last they became friends; and the 
 friendship did much to alleviate my brother's lot. 
 Many years passed, and as my brother's days drew to a
 
 180 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 close, his thoughts turned to home again. But he was 
 unwilling to write for many reasons. He was ashamed 
 of his long silence, and of his imprisonment ; and then he 
 did not know if the old home were still in being, or 
 whether any of his relations were still alive. So he con- 
 sulted with his humble friend, and at last it was decided 
 that at his first interval of holiday the turnkey should go 
 to Ireland, and find out these things. But my brother 
 cautioned him that he was to say nothing of his mission, 
 but to report all to him when he returned." 
 
 " That was the lawyer old Terry thought he spot- 
 ted," said Jackson to himself. 
 
 " And now comes the romantic part of the story. 
 My brother had not wasted all his immense fortune on 
 the insurgents. Concealed in a secret receptacle in one 
 of the cases held by the military authorities was a bun- 
 dle of notes and bonds amounting to no less than " 
 Mr. Normanby paused, the cashier leaned forward 
 eagerly " ninety thousand " (" Only dollars, I'm 
 sure," flashed across Mr. Jackson's mind) " pounds 
 sterling," said Mr. Normanby in an awed voice. 
 
 " Good Lord ! " said Jackson to himself. 
 " With this remnant for it was only a remnant of 
 his fortune" ("Hundreds of thousands wasted on 
 those infernal yellow rascals," thought Jackson in an- 
 guish. " What a bank account he must have kept ! ") 
 " my brother had hoped first to dower his only child ; 
 and then, when that hope failed him, to soothe and ease 
 his last years. It was not to be. When the turnkey 
 came back to the prison his occupation was almost gone. 
 The hand of death was on poor Lawrence. He died a 
 few weeks later." 
 
 Mr. Normanby sat gently tapping the table with one 
 hand dreaming. 
 
 " Yes, my dear," he said, answering to a soft move- 
 ment of his daughter. " Well, Mr. Jackson, a few 
 words ends the story. He appointed his poor friend
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 181 
 
 executor in all legal form, and confided to him the whole 
 circumstances. It was perhaps a rash thing to do, I 
 am afraid," said Mr. Normanby, smiling; " a banker like 
 yourself would have been more cautious ; but his confi- 
 dence was not misplaced. The honest fellow communi- 
 cated with me at once. Some letters passed between us. 
 I told him frankly of my brother's past, and satisfied 
 him that I was sole representative, and he began to take 
 steps to convey to me the inheritance. But an obstacle 
 intervened. With the customary rapacity of officials 
 the authorities demanded a considerable sum before re- 
 leasing my brother's effects. The sum remaining of the 
 money deposited in the banks there was trifling, and the 
 poor turnkey wrote to me in despair. I will read you 
 extracts from his letters. They are a little quaint, Mr. 
 Jackson, but reveal a simple, childlike character. My 
 belief in the fundamental goodness of human nature has 
 been deepened by this humble turnkey. 
 
 " I may say that my brother's death did not come 
 upon me as a surprise. Shortly before it took place I 
 had a warning from his devoted friend in the following 
 touching terms " Mr. Normanby drew a letter 
 from the pile of flimsy, foreign note-paper beside him, 
 and began to read in a slightly tremulous voice. 
 
 " ' I regret very much that on the next time I write 
 you that I may be herald of bad news. But the case 
 so require it, and the truth must be said though we may 
 be painful. 
 
 " ' The your relative health state is very bad, being 
 the science powerless against the infirmity, and if God 
 with His infinite power ' observe the poor fellow's 
 humble piety," said Mr. Normanby " ' does not re- 
 turn his health, I believe we shall see very soon an un- 
 fortunate end.' 
 
 " The premonition was but too well founded, Mr. 
 Jackson, as the next letter will show. 
 
 " ' I wrote you,' it says, ' giving information of your
 
 182 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 relative health state. To-day I write you again, and I 
 am very sorry that I must communicate you that Senor 
 Ricardo de Normanbie died the day 6th inst., victim of 
 human selfishness.' Mark the honest indignation ! " 
 said Mr. Normanby with warmth. 
 
 " ' As I have said to you in my last letter I will to 
 execute sincerely the sacred mission that your relative 
 has commissioned me, and with the God aid ' a reser- 
 vation, Mr. Jackson, that we should all make * I will 
 execute the promise made to him in his period agony. 
 
 " ' I have had an interview with a functionary of the 
 Military Tribunal of this city, who manifested me that 
 the equipage was seized because the processed effects 
 and estates has not money for to pay the sum demanded 
 for the Tribunal by payment the costs and process ex- 
 penses, but the Tribunal as soon as receive the sum for 
 the pay total of costs, and process expenses ' which is 
 really," said Mr. Normanby with some indignation, " the 
 plunder exacted by these unjust stewarts * will hand 
 the equipage to me, the person that the late Senor Don 
 Ricardo de Normanbie has officially appointed. But on 
 the case that within of the term of ninety days from the 
 date of Senor Don Ricardo de Normanbie's death would 
 not been paid the mentioned sum, the Tribunal will con- 
 sider himself with right for taking possession of the 
 equipage and its contents.' 
 
 " And this," said Mr. Normanby warmly, " is in the 
 twentieth century. Such, Mr. Jackson, are the fruits 
 of that militarism which we in this country have hith- 
 erto so fortunately escaped. 
 
 " But I must not be angry. I wonder," and he smiled 
 roguishly, " I wonder what chance I should have of re- 
 ceiving my poor brother's effects if this Military Tribu- 
 nal knew what they contained. I am tempted the 
 old Adam is hard to conquer, my dear young friend I 
 am tempted to communicate with this Tribunal when the
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 183 
 
 money is safe in my hands. But I trust I shall find 
 strength to resist the temptation. 
 
 " Well, to continue our extract : ' The total amount 
 for to pay in the Tribunal according the document of 
 the depositary judicial that I have solicited after of 
 your relative death as also the document of the death, 
 which enclosed documents I ask you to please return it 
 because I can want it for the replieving of the equipage. 
 
 *' * The total amount are 1000 pesetas (Spanish 
 money), which are 4?0. 
 
 " ' As soon as you have sent the sum I shall present 
 a writing to the Tribunal in name and representation of 
 executor in order to the Tribunal deliver me all the 
 equipage making the money deposit which the Military 
 Tribunal demand by the payment total the costs and 
 process expenses. 
 
 " * On seeing this I hope you will send the amount for 
 getting out the seized equipage as well as for the ex- 
 penses of my journey until your home. I feel very 
 much I cannot to advance the necessary sum for to re- 
 deem equipage. I am poor and my state very precari- 
 ous, being my wages so little that hardly I can pay my 
 scarce expenses. 
 
 " ' The total amount are 50 that I hope you send me 
 by return because the delay fixed by the Tribunal finish 
 the 90th day and the performance of these men are very 
 stern.' 
 
 " Think of this poor being with his pittance of wages 
 cheerfully handing over to the rightful owner such a 
 vast sum, and requesting only ten pounds for his frugal 
 expenses. Does it not make one blush," said Mr. Nor- 
 manby with emotion. 
 
 " And he is scrupulous to send me the requisition of 
 the Tribunal, and a certificate of my brother's death, 
 lest I should doubt his fidelity, or question the sum de- 
 manded. But I should as soon think of doubting the
 
 184 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 honor of of my banker," said Mr. Normanby with a 
 little bow. 
 
 " See here's the certificate in due form." He handed 
 a document to the cashier. 
 
 " It seems quite official," said Mr. Jackson, hastily 
 glancing at the paper. 
 
 " Oh, you read Spanish, then ? " said Mr. Normanby. 
 
 " Er not exactly," stammered the cashier. 
 " But " 
 
 " Do not be ashamed, Mr. Jackson," said the old 
 gentleman. " Neither do I. Ah, what would I not give 
 to be able to read the immortal ' Don Quixote ' in the 
 original. And you know the rap he gives translators, 
 eh? 'Twas ungrateful if a man can be proleptically 
 ungrateful ; for who has owed more to translators than 
 the same valorous knight ? 
 
 " But our thoughtful agent has furnished us with a 
 translation of the Tribunal's demand, and of the certifi- 
 cate, given not indeed by Doctor Pedro Recio de Aguero 
 of Tirteafuera, and graduate of Osuna Alas ! " 
 said Mr. Normanby in sudden compunction, " that lit- 
 erature should come nearer to us than life or death ! 
 My poor brother is dead, and I jest about it. Forgive 
 an old man, to whom death and life alike have above be- 
 come a dream, who has too long been living among 
 shadows. 
 
 " But my interminable story is at an end. 
 
 " My recent illness supervened. Nora here took upon 
 her the necessary arrangements, and for my health's 
 sake forbade me particulars. It is enough that she sent 
 the money, how obtained I know not, though I suspect 
 the kindly agency of your Bank, Mr. Jackson " and 
 Mr. Normanby again bowed slightly. 
 
 " The * equipage ' of which our faithful agent writes 
 is in his hands. Certain difficulties over legal matters 
 have yet to be surmounted. The law's delays, Mr.
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 185 
 
 Jackson, of which I think Spain has a Benjamin's por- 
 tion. 
 
 " But it cannot be long now till this great inheritance 
 a great responsibility, for so I look upon it comes 
 into my hands ; and with it there comes, I think I may 
 say providentially, a unique opportunity of doing good 
 to my old neighbors and friends in Portnamuck. 
 
 " I will not, however, enter into that now. I am a 
 little fatigued, Mr. Jackson, after my long-winded re- 
 cital ' talking age,' you know, my dear friend and 
 if you will pardon me I will withdraw. I will send Nora 
 to entertain you I am afraid she will insist on seeing 
 me to my room and I think after the exemplary way 
 you have both enacted audience you deserve a little chat. 
 Good night, my boy." And Mr. Normanby pressed the 
 cashier's hand in such a paternal manner that Mr. Jack- 
 son felt his liberty slipping rapidly away from him. 
 Even the recollection of the ninety thousand pounds 
 hardly consoled him. 
 
 But the spectacle of Nora anxiously supporting her 
 father out of the room gratified the cashier's secret 
 craving for sentiment. He was a trifle jarred by the 
 roguish grimace with which the young lady accompanied 
 her ceremonial " Mr. Jackson " ; but then, as he reflected 
 when left to himself, a girl who was less of a tomboy 
 would hardly be so fond of dogs. 
 
 It was still a rather subdued Miss Nora who re-en- 
 tered the room. 
 
 " Well, Jacks," she asked anxiously, after closing the 
 door, " what do you think of it all? " 
 
 " I think it's like a story out of " Mr. Jackson 
 fumbled for an illustration " out of a novel," he con- 
 cluded lamely. " You're awfully lucky, Nora, and I 
 congratulate you heartily." 
 
 He went towards her, holding out his hand. 
 
 The warm contact awakened him to the possibilities
 
 186 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 of the situation. Surely now was the moment, at any 
 rate. 
 
 " I hope, Nora," he said thickly, still retaining her 
 hand in his. "I I hope this money won't make you 
 forget all your old friends." 
 
 But Nora was unconscious of his agitation. 
 
 " Look here, Jacks," she said, absently withdrawing 
 her hand, " I'm not quite easy in my mind about this 
 business." 
 
 " Why on earth not, Nora," cried Jackson, forgetting 
 sentiment in his surprise. 
 
 " Sit down a moment till I tell you," said Miss Nora, 
 going over to the fireplace, and leaning her shoulders 
 against the mantelpiece. 
 
 Mr. Jackson noted with regret the distance placed 
 between them by this maneuver. 
 
 " When I sent away that fifty pounds that you were 
 such a sportsman about " Miss Nora turned pink, and 
 Mr. Jackson scarlet " I thought this gaoler man 
 would have been here with the boodle in a fortnight. 
 But he didn't turn up ; and I wrote to the little blighter, 
 without saying a word to Dad, who was pretty sick and 
 feverish at the time, and asked what was up, and if he'd 
 got the fifty pounds, and whether it was enough. I was 
 a silly ass to do that," said Miss Nora, nodding her head 
 wisely, " for sure enough back comes a letter, saying it 
 would take another twenty-five pounds. It was a nice 
 letter, and very plausible and apologetic, and all that, 
 and went for the Military Tribunal like old boots ; but 
 somehow I didn't like it." 
 
 " But, good heavens, Nora, if the man is going to 
 hand you over ninety thousand pounds it wouldn't be 
 worth his while to cheat you out of twenty-five." 
 
 "That's all right, Jacks," rejoined Nora; "but he 
 hasn't handed over the ninety thousand yet. And " 
 she looked graver than ever Jackson had seen her look 
 before " I sold mother's jewels and sent it, and the lit-
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 187 
 
 tie microbe never answered my letter yet, and that's 
 days and days ago." 
 
 " Whew ! " Mr. Jackson looked grave also. " That 
 looks queer. Could there be anything fishy about the 
 story? You remember I said it sounded a bit novelly. 
 But how could this Spaniard this gaoler have 
 found out all about your uncle? " 
 
 " He might have picked it all out of Dad," said Miss 
 Nora. " It's beastly mean of me to say it, but Dad's a 
 bit long in the wind ; and he's ten times worse when he 
 begins writing. And he let this little Spanish beggar 
 know there was money in it; for shortly after he heard 
 from him first he asked him would he need money for 
 preliminary expenses. 
 
 " I needn't bring that up against Dad, though," said 
 Nora with compunction, " for I was a bigger juggins 
 still. But I want to show you how this Spanish man 
 might have got a hint. I say, Jacks," burst out Nora, 
 half weeping, " what can I do ? It's not myself I'm 
 thinking of, it's Dad. Had I better tell him ? He's not 
 a bit concerned about the delay, mind ; just takes it as a 
 matter of course. But if the whole thing is a sell the 
 sooner he knows the better. And I can't let it run past 
 the meeting about the new factory. What can I do, 
 Jacks? You know all about money business. Could 
 your Bank make inquiries out there? " 
 
 Mr. Jackson was as much distressed by Miss Nora's 
 wet lashes as any young man of his age could be; but 
 at the same time he had a young man's abnormal dread 
 of ridicule ; and there were elements in the story that 
 hardly lent themselves to the cold matter-of-fact of a 
 correspondence with Head Office. 
 
 But that would be the manager's task, he reflected 
 with relief. 
 
 " Better put the whole thing before the manager, 
 Nora," he said. " He's an awful long-headed chap in 
 ways."
 
 188 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 " Not for worlds," cried Nora hurriedly. " Look 
 here, Jacks, if you tell him I'll never, never forgive you." 
 And Miss Nora stamped her foot. " Can't you think 
 of something to do ? " 
 
 Mr. Jackson was uneasily aware of a certain under- 
 current of contempt in Miss Nora's voice, and cudgelled 
 his brains violently. 
 
 Light came to him in a flash, as he recalled Terry's 
 " American Lawyer." He related the incident in a few 
 words. 
 
 " The man's story is true enough. He did come over, 
 and your uncle must have sent him. When did you get 
 the first letter from Spain ? There, you see ; he was here 
 inquiring first, just as he said. The man's honest 
 enough, Nora, and it will all turn out right in the end." 
 
 " You're a genius, Jacks," said Miss Nora in high 
 excitement, and administered one of her old-time slaps on 
 the back with a vigor that almost precipitated Mr. Jack- 
 son into the fender. " Nothing else would have brought 
 him over here. He couldn't have found out about us 
 unless through my uncle. But still " sobering a lit- 
 tle " why doesn't the little reptile write ? " 
 
 " He didn't acknowledge the first money you sent 
 him," said Jackson. " A man like that knows nothing 
 of business. Good gracious, Nora, some of our bill- 
 holders wouldn't acknowledge fifty letters. And maybe 
 he doesn't want to write till he has the ' equipage,' as 
 he calls it, safe in his hands. He might land here with 
 the money, and never write you he was coming." 
 
 " If he lands here without writing to me, I'll put the 
 dogs on him if he should bring a million," said Miss 
 Nora ; " I haven't slept for nights over him. Look here, 
 Jacks, I must hear before the meeting." 
 
 " Wire him, Nora," cried the cashier. " When's the 
 meeting? This day week. Wire him to let you have 
 a letter sure before then." 
 
 " Jacks," said Miss Nora with conviction, " you'll be
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 189 
 
 a Director before you die. I'll call in the Bank when I 
 hear." 
 
 Mr. Jackson was so intoxicated by his redemption of 
 his character that he passed out through a pitch-dark 
 hall, and said good night to Miss Nora at the front door 
 without ever remembering the sage counsels of his man- 
 ager and Terry. From which the manager, at least, 
 would have drawn some conclusions.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 THE announcement of a definite date for the 
 public meeting in connexion with the proposed 
 Portnamuck Woolen Factory, Ltd. raised ex- 
 citement to fever height, and a host of informal meetings 
 drew together in all quarters of the town. One of the 
 most representative took place in the cobbler's house 
 in two sections, the workshop being delivered to men and 
 tobacco, and the kitchen to women and tea. The first 
 was presided over by the cobbler as master of the house, 
 and showed some disposition to confine itself to the eco- 
 nomic side of the question. The cobbler, perched -high 
 and comfortably on his working seat, was inclined to be- 
 stow his benediction unreservedly on the scheme. 
 
 " There'll be something in it for us all now, boys, take 
 my word for it. Four or mebbe five hundred hands it'll 
 give employ to, of men and weemin. An' that'll mean 
 a deal of fresh people comin' until the town ; for there's 
 not near-hand that amount of workin' men an' weemin 
 about, forby that a lot av them that is here would run 
 away from a bit of work if they met it in the sthreet. 
 An' more people means more boots, an' more boots means 
 more mendin', an' mendin' is money, as far as I am con- 
 sarned. I'm for the factory, heart and sowl, an' any 
 man with a head on him'll be the same. I'm only givin' 
 ye an illustration from my own case," went on the cob- 
 bler, adroitly anticipating objection; " for every man of 
 us will get his share. There's the postman, now " 
 
 " Aye, William, where do I come in ? " inquired the 
 public servant in question ; " for barrin' that there'll 
 
 be more letthers to deliver, d n all I see in it for 
 
 me." 
 
 190
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 191 
 
 " Won't the town be as big again in a crack," said the 
 cobbler, " an' the post office be raised to first class, an* 
 you walkin' about a gentleman, with two or three men 
 undher ye, an' you hardly iver wettin' your foot except 
 to go round an' lift the Christmas boxes? What's to 
 keep ye out of bein' postmasther whin ould Moses dies ; 
 an' won't the j ob be three times as good by then ? " 
 
 " You're right, Pether, faith you're right," said the 
 postman, contemplating the shining vision with his 
 mind's eye. " It'll be a big thing for us all." 
 
 " An' there's Phil Moran. Will he iver be off the 
 road dhrivin' commercial thravelers up an' down from 
 the station, an' ivery time a good tip. For it'll be none 
 of your tape an' spools men'll be comin' here then ; but 
 big bugs of fellows sellin' stuff by the half-ton, an' them 
 with fifteen shillin's an' a pound a day for expenses. 
 An' there'll be buyers, too, comin' to the facthory. 
 There's two of yez will do well out of it, an' I could go 
 round ivery man in the room wi' the same story. Is 
 there a man here won't get his share of the plundher? 
 Reach me that boot out of the corner, Dan," said the 
 cobbler, " for I can niver half talk unless my hands is 
 goin'. 
 
 " Ye're not makin' a bad offer at it as it is, William," 
 remarked a small man, who, whether because he dissented 
 from the murmured chorus of approval that followed the 
 cobbler's remarks, or because he was sitting on the bench 
 of tools, had been shuffling uneasily for some time. 
 " But you're givin' the whole show away when ye talk 
 about people comin' in to do the work. That's what will 
 be the ruin of us all. Four men'll come in where there'll 
 not be one job, an' them that is makin' an honest livin' 
 at the present time'll be thrown out on the sthreets. I 
 niver seen it different. If a new-comer arrives in the 
 town ivery man an' woman in the place is thrippin' over 
 themselves to give him a job, an' the ould residenters 
 may starve for all they care. Look at myself, that has
 
 192 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 supplied boats to the visitors to this shore, man an' boy, 
 for thirty years a mean, hungry pack most of them is 
 too an' whin a pushin' impident fellow comes up from 
 Bangor last season wi' two or three varnished cockle- 
 shells the divil a thing there was for me to do but wear 
 the seat of me breeches sittin' on the rocks watchin' peo- 
 ple go out in thim. Blast ye for an untidy crather ! " 
 ejaculated the little man, leaping up hastily from the 
 bench, " could ye not keep your tools tidy. Oh Lord," 
 he groaned, rubbing himself in anguish, " the wee 
 crooked awl is in to me hip bone ! " 
 
 " I was wondherin' where that awl was," said the cob- 
 bler coolly, when the laugh at the little man's misfortune 
 had died down. " But I might have knowed where it 
 was. It's a case of birds of a feather wi' the pair of 
 ye; for ye're as crooked as itself. Listen to me now, 
 
 *' Do ye hear the good man raisin' his voice in the 
 parlor, Mrs. Rankin," said a fat elderly woman to the 
 cobbler's wife, redepositing her cup on the saucer from 
 which she had just been drinking. " I doubt he's into 
 somebody's wool. He's a very short man when he's 
 crossed. Ye have your own throuble keepin' him in 
 ordher, I'm sure." 
 
 " Aye, 'deed he's fractious enough at times," rejoined 
 the cobbler's wife. "Any man with a sittin' job is al- 
 ways a bit carnaptious. But, as I was saying, it's very 
 easy for the like of Michael Brannegan to be doin' the 
 big pot, an' puttin' his thousand pound intil a facthory 
 whin he has nothin' to do but set his big hinder-end 
 savin' your presence on the top of a barrel while the 
 whole menkind of the town runs to him and daily pourin' 
 the money intil his pockets that would be betther spent 
 on their wives an' childher, an' fillin' their insides with 
 his rotten muck." 
 
 " Aye, 'deed we all sympathize with you, Mrs. Ran- 
 kin," said a little thin-faced woman near the door, in a
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 193 
 
 voice of slightly subacid pity. " William must be a 
 sore trial to you at times." 
 
 " Keep your sympathy for them that needs it, if you 
 please, Mrs. Rafferty," responded the cobbler's wife, 
 tossing her head indignantly. " Ye'll maybe find some 
 of them neardher home. Thank God, when my man 
 does take a dhrink or two now an' then more than is good 
 for him, he comes home to his own house, anyway. Let 
 her take that," said the cobbler's wife under her breath, 
 with great satisfaction, to her crony, Mrs. Molloy, who 
 was sitting beside her. 
 
 " It's a nice thing," said the fat woman, hastily push- 
 ing in, while Mrs. Rafferty was devising a sufficiently 
 bitter rejoinder, " to see ould Finnegan the dhraper set- 
 tin' himself up as a directhor of a wool facthory on the 
 strength of selling maybe half a dozen pair of inside 
 dhrawers in the fortnight, an' not as much wool in the 
 lot as would stuff a pin-cushion. The last pair I bought 
 in the shop my man put his knees through, sittin' down 
 on the creepie-stool to warm his shins at the fire." 
 
 " Now if talkin's of any use he'll earn his pay," said 
 Mrs. Molloy, pressing her lips together, and nodding her 
 head with an air of great wisdom. 
 
 " Oh, 'deed will he," interposed Mrs. Rafferty, de- 
 flected from the cobbler's wife to this new prey. " An 
 empty ould bladdher of wind, that's what he is. It 
 bates all to see the airs of him an' that ould skin of a 
 wife of his. You'd think to see the style of them on a 
 Sunday it was my Lord an' Lady Leftenant goin' up the 
 sthreet. It's well seen clothes comes cheap to the pair 
 of them. 
 
 " I wondher does he mind startin' round in the Gut- 
 tery Lane in a lock-up shop that wee that he couldn't 
 use his yard-stick in it, with wan slip of a fourteen-year- 
 old child for an apprentice at eighteenpence a week, an' 
 the pair of them sleepin' among the cloth in the back 
 office about half as wee again as the shop, an' makin'
 
 194 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 their breakfast in the mornin' off the wan egg cut in 
 two." 
 
 " Aye, I mind it well," broke in the fat woman. " He 
 wasn't so upsettin' in them days. It's changed times 
 with him now with his Emporium, an' his six hands, an' 
 his Departments. His Departments aw God help 
 the crather." 
 
 " 'Deed you may well laugh, Mary," said Mrs. Raf- 
 ferty approvingly. " Capers an' nonsense, I call it. 
 The boot department at the door, an' up the counther is 
 the ribbon department, an' back to the door again is the 
 hardware, an' a young ganch of a counthry boy skippin' 
 up an' down like a grasshopper trying to be in the whole 
 three places at the one time ; with the ould fellow himself 
 lookin' on, an' wouldn't soil his finger to sell ye a pair of 
 laces." 
 
 " Well, now, ye can't say that of wee Sharpe. 
 There's no didoes with him, anyway," said the cobbler's 
 wife, looking up from the tea-pot she was replenishing. 
 " He's always just plain Jane, an' as obligin' with a 
 poor body as with My Lady." 
 
 " Aye, he's the right wee man, is Sharpe," said her 
 friend Mrs. Molloy approvingly. " If it was only a 
 ha'port of tacks he'd ransack the whole shop himself 
 but he'd get it for ye. If he has enough to say in the 
 facthory it'll be no miss." 
 
 " Oh, he's well enough," said Mrs. Rafferty grudg- 
 ingly, " but what about the rest of them? Could there 
 be luck about a place that that miserable bein' McCar- 
 rison had anything to do with? Wouldn't the face of 
 him stop the works ivery time he put his head in of the 
 facthory door? He may be in the seed business, but if 
 iver the Almighty intended a man to be a undhertaker 
 it was himself. A whingein', complainin' crather, that 
 worried his poor wife intil her grave. Not but she was 
 a do-less bein' enough ; but sure the woman couldn't help 
 it ; it was the way she was born."
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 195 
 
 " Ah, blethers, woman," said the cobbler's wife con- 
 temptuously. " What say will McCarrison or any of 
 them have in it ? Doesn't the whole town know that the 
 big end of the money will come out of Mr. Normanby's 
 pocket, an' won't he do what he likes ? " 
 
 " Is it that dhreamin' ould lunatic manage a f ac- 
 thory?" began Mrs. Rafferty. 
 
 " Just keep your tongue off our clergy, if you please, 
 mem," burst in the cobbler's wife in high wrath. " The 
 Reverend Mr. Normanby " she rolled his title unctu- 
 ously on her tongue " is as good as any of your sort, 
 an' betther, an' has done more good to the town since 1 
 come intil it than all the priests an' bishops, an' cardi- 
 nals " 
 
 " An' keep your bad tongue off my clergy, Mrs. Ran- 
 kin" and Mrs. Rafferty sprang to her feet in quiver- 
 ing indignation " for if wan of them should only lift 
 his finger it would tumble your ould f acthory in the gut- 
 ter. Come on home, Mary " over her shoulder to the 
 fat woman, as she made for the door " for not wan 
 minit longer will I sit in that woman's house to be in- 
 sulted in my religion. Good night to ye, mem," she 
 panted, holding on valiantly to the latch of the kitchen 
 door as her crony's huge bulk swept past her, " an' good 
 luck to ye, an' your facthory, an' your Reverend 
 ould idiot" she spat out suddenly, and vanished with a 
 bang of the door that caused a plate to jump off the 
 dresser. 
 
 " Let her put that in her pipe an' smoke it," said Mrs. 
 Rafferty, as she hurried up the street, still possessed 
 with fury, " the ould bigot. There was peace an' quiet- 
 ness in the town till the like of her come intil it. It 
 would be a long time till ye heard a Portnamuck body 
 startin' party talk. But what would ye expect from a 
 new-comer like her." 
 
 " An' that's the truth," wheezed the fat woman from 
 the rear. " I knowed there'd be no luck wi' William
 
 196 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 Rankin marryin' out of the town. It takes me to the 
 fair to hear an impident upstart like her, that hasn't 
 been in the place above twenty years, layin' down the 
 law to ould residenters that has lived here, an' their 
 fathers before them since since the Day of Judg- 
 ment," said the fat woman, recovering her breath a lit- 
 tle, as they paused at Mrs. Rafferty's door. " But do 
 ye think this f acthory business will come to anythin' ? " 
 
 " It might," said Mrs. Rafferty, her hand on the 
 latch, " if ould Normanby's fool enough to put the 
 money intil it. But mark my words, Mary, there'll not 
 much go intil it but his own. The people of Portnamuck 
 is not goin' out to catch butterflies. An' as for that 
 woman down the sthreet " she ground out in a sudden 
 recollection of her late skirmish " if I hear of her or 
 her dhrunken useless man puttin' six pence intil the same 
 facthory, I'll denounce it in ivery house in the town if it 
 was only for spite." And Mrs. Rafferty flounced in, 
 dealing hardly more tenderly with her own door than 
 with the cobbler's. 
 
 Meanwhile the party in the cobbler's workroom was 
 breaking up, leaving the members with the comfortable 
 feeling that no definite conclusion had been arrived at, 
 and that the subject still afforded great possibilities of 
 discussion. 
 
 " What I say is," declared the boat owner in the hope 
 of a prolongation of the debate, " unless we could get the 
 Government to do somethin' " 
 
 " Ach, will ye hould your tongue about the Govern- 
 ment," said the cobbler in disgust. " Haven't we far 
 betther than any Government? Isn't Misther Nor- 
 manby goin' to back it, that has come intil as much 
 money as the Government iver had? An' if he's willin* 
 to put up the money, are we goin' to be fools enough to 
 prevent him? Sure it can't do the town any harm. 
 Win or lose we'll be no worse off than we were."
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 1.97 
 
 " I wouldn't be too sure of that either," said the boat- 
 man to Phil Moran, as they went off together. 
 
 " There'll be more people goin' up an' down between 
 this an' the station, anyway," returned Phil. 
 
 " An' who'll be dhrivin' them ? " asked the boatman. 
 " It'll not be a crack till there'll be some Belfast fellows 
 up with wan of them motives, an' before three months 
 there'll not be a jauntin'-car on the road." 
 
 " Ah, the divil a fear," said Phil stoutly. " There'll 
 be as many with an eye in their head for a horse as'll 
 keep me out of the poor-house. Good night, Barney." 
 
 " I wish to God," grumbled the boatman to himself 
 as he went along, " that people could just let things go 
 on as they always did. I don't know what's comin' over 
 the world at all." 
 
 " Come in out of the cowld, William," called the cob- 
 bler's wife, whose guests had also departed ; " what are 
 ye standin' there for? " 
 
 " I was just watchin' ould Barney preachin' to Phil 
 Moran," answered the cobbler, turning to the kitchen. 
 
 " Ach, come in out of that," said his wife, " till I tell 
 you how I put down Biddy Rafferty."
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 EARLY on the evening of the fateful meeting 
 the promoters assembled in Michael's bar-par- 
 lor. As was to be expected from men shortly 
 about to undergo the ordeal of appearance on a public 
 platform they all looked very nervous ; and Terry's at- 
 tendance on the room was quite unusually brisk. But 
 the customary flow of conversation did not follow his 
 ministrations. Mr. Finnegan's tongue was indeed loos- 
 ened, but he confined himself to a rapid monologue under 
 his breath, accompanied by occasional furtive glances 
 at a roll of paper only half concealed in his sleeve, from 
 which phenomena most of the observers drew dismal 
 auguries as to the progress of business later on. Only 
 a more than commonly restless roving of his keen little 
 eyes distinguished the demeanor of Mr. Sharpe from 
 the ordinary ; but the melancholy of the seedsman was 
 even for him abnormal, and amounted to a kind of 
 speechless agony. The blacksmith himself, perhaps op- 
 pressed by the unwonted cleanness of his face, was al- 
 most silent ; and an Olympian gravity distinguished Mi- 
 chael's visits to the room. 
 
 About two hours before the time appointed for the 
 meeting a steady stream of country vehicles set in to- 
 wards Michael's stabling-yard. The tension inside per- 
 ceptibly relaxed; and when later on a noticeable move- 
 ment of foot-passengers in the direction of the Town 
 Hall became apparent, only the seedsman maintained his 
 gloom. 
 
 In the town itself there was a strong undercurrent of 
 excitement. The more responsible citizens, realizing 
 
 198
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 199 
 
 that there was a distinct prospect of benefit to the dis- 
 trict, had hastened to apply for tickets; and half an 
 hour before the hall was to be thrown open to the gen- 
 eral public the front portion of it was filled by a solid 
 body of householders, every man of them eager for the 
 public good, and steadfastly determined not to involve 
 himself in any personal responsibility. 
 
 The proletariat, on the other hand, were more inclined 
 to look on the humorous possibilities of the meeting. 
 Life in the town of Portnamuck was undeniably dull; 
 and such an opportunity of enlivening it decidedly not 
 to be missed. The probability of Mr. Finnegan's ap- 
 pearance in the chair was freely canvassed, and various 
 steps towards diversifying it taken. The younger fry 
 provided themselves with trumpets and whistles, and 
 other means of producing a cheerful noise. A plentiful 
 supply of light but galling missiles, such as haricot 
 beans and small shot, lurked in the pockets of the 
 seniors; and Paddy Rogan, who enjoyed a considerable 
 reputation in his own circles as a practical joker, decoy- 
 ing the widow Moran from her kitchen by a report that 
 her cat had fallen into the adjoining well, had provided 
 himself and his satellites with heavy artillery in the 
 shape of about a quarter of a stone of more than half- 
 boiled potatoes. 
 
 " Ach, sure," said Paddy, excusing his deed to one or 
 two of the more conscientious, " aren't all the childher 
 comin* to the meetin', an' won't they have more fun out 
 of the perdas there than if they were in their bellies ? " 
 
 Michael, warned by the cheering that saluted each 
 fresh entrance of ticket-holders into the Town Hall, sent 
 stringent orders to the door-keepers that none of the 
 riffraff, as he unkindly put it, were to be admitted. But 
 he was out-generalled ; for when the back door of the hall 
 was opened to admit the prospective Directors to the 
 committee-room in the rear of the platform, one of the 
 ticketless adroitly wedged the door with a block of wood
 
 200 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 and in an instant the back hall and staircase were 
 choked with riff-raff triumphans. Not all the eloquence 
 of all the Directors availed to persuade them to with- 
 draw; and finally, lest the platform should be stormed 
 from the rear, it was found necessary to throw open the 
 back seats in the hall of meeting to all comers. 
 
 " There'll be fun the night, Mr. Finnegan," said the 
 blacksmith. " The boys have got their blood up now. 
 It would ha' been betther to ha' let them in to the big 
 hall at the start. But ye daren't say that to Michael." 
 
 " Mr. Brannegan," said the draper, " is a very able 
 man in his own way, but if I may say so obstinate, 
 Denis yes, obstinate. I haven't expressed the opin- 
 ion publicly, but strictly between ourselves I hope he will 
 be better guided than to aim at the chair to-night. An 
 able man still, if I might venture to put it so strongly, 
 a trifle, just a trifle, illiterate. Now somebody with a 
 little experience I would not have the assurance to 
 put myself forward unduly, or in any way to 
 usurp " 
 
 " Mr. Finnegan," said the blacksmith with convic- 
 tion, " you're the man for the job, and nobody else. 
 What " 
 
 " I cherished, I may remark, a perhaps not unjustifi- 
 able feeling that my little knowledge of public affairs, 
 and what some people have been good enough to call my 
 capacity for eloquence, would be of service to the great 
 undertaking we are about to launch on the sea of pros- 
 perity to-night," said Mr. Finnegan with a slight down- 
 ward glance at his manuscript. " But Mr. Branne- 
 gan " 
 
 " Here, I'll tell you what you'll do," said the black- 
 smith eagerly. " There's two or three men big farm- 
 ers that we want to keep in with on the platform al- 
 ready. Away out an' plant yourself in the chair, and 
 the minit the curtain rises break into a speech, an' the 
 divil a man in Portnamuck can stop you an' that's
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 201 
 
 the God's truth," concluded the blacksmith to him- 
 self. 
 
 Mr. Finnegan glanced round. Big Michael was en- 
 gaged in reassuring the somewhat intimidated chartered 
 accountant with the help of a bottle. The draper put 
 his finger to his lips, and tip-toed from the room. 
 
 " Hadn't we better make a start, Michael," said the 
 blacksmith. " The hall'll be down if we don't. Are ye 
 waitin' for Mr. Normanby? " 
 
 " No, he's not to be here for a while yet," said Mi- 
 chael. " I'm waitin' for young de Bullevant. Now, 
 that'll do, Denis." Michael put up a hand. " I know 
 the public. A big bug is a big bug, even if they hate 
 him like poison." 
 
 And indeed though a section of the present generation 
 of Portnamuckites expended a good deal of their pocket- 
 money from time to time on tar for the statue of their 
 landlord that their grateful fathers had erected, it was 
 undeniable that the presence of himself or his son was 
 accorded more deference than that of the most dis- 
 tinguished champion of tenants' privileges in the 
 town. 
 
 " There's Mr. Percy at the door," said the black- 
 smith ; " but God knows how the wee crather'll iver get 
 up the steps. For ye couldn't pull the people out of the 
 passage with a corkscrew. By the hokey, here he 
 comes ! " 
 
 There was a cheer, and a confused shouting : " Up 
 with him have ye got him? houl' tight, Mr. Percy." 
 
 The body of Mr. Percy, violently contorted, appeared 
 on the top of a small forest of hands. 
 
 " Now, boys, pass him along ! " And next moment he 
 landed at the committee-room door, and was hurried on 
 to the platform by the blacksmith before he had time to 
 collect his dignity. 
 
 " Come on now, men," said Michael, " we'll make a 
 start."
 
 202 MR. WILDRIDGE OF, THE BANK 
 
 " But, Michael," whispered the blacksmith from the 
 door opening on the platform, " what about poor ould 
 Mr. Normanby? For if they hoist him up that way the 
 divil a cent iver we'll get out of him, barrin' he has left 
 it to us in his will." 
 
 " Leave that too, now," said Michael curtly. " He'll 
 be here. The covered car is to call at the barracks, an' 
 the sergeant'll do the rest. Come on now, sir, an' have 
 your figures ready." He grasped the accountant by the 
 arm and strode on to the creaking platform. 
 
 Mr. Finnegan heard the boding sound, and turned in 
 trembling deprecation. But Michael wasted no time in 
 parley. " Get out of it," was all he said. The tone it- 
 self was enough. Mr Finnegan got out of it. 
 
 " Up with that curtain now," said Michael. " Wait ; 
 fetch me a chair that'll hold a man." 
 
 But he was too late. The curtain rose. 
 
 Had it risen on Michael seated in awful state, flanked 
 by Mr. Percy and the unfamiliar and city-like figure of 
 the chartered accountant, it is probable that order would 
 have reigned from the start. But Michael's standing 
 posture and furious glances at the attendant betrayed 
 the contretemps, and weakened his authority. A sub- 
 dued titter ran through the hall, that even Michael's dig- 
 nity had some difficulty in supporting with unconcern. 
 His repeated beckonings to the attendant confused the 
 man, and the delay in bringing the chair added triple 
 strength to the cheer that greeted its arrival. Then, 
 owing to its greater size, there was some difficulty in get- 
 ting the chair placed. The operation was followed 
 eagerly from the hall. 
 
 " They'd betther watch themselves where they plant 
 that chair," declared the local carpenter to a knot of his 
 friends. " There's a rotten plank in the middle of the 
 platform, and if the hind-legs goes on it, the first place 
 Michael'll stop'll be on the foundations." 
 
 The news flew through the room like wild-fire. Mi-
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 203 
 
 chael's ponderous enthronement of himself was watched 
 with strained attention, and when the chair stood firm, 
 the short pause of disappointment was followed by sal- 
 vos of ringing cheers, that continued long after Michael 
 had raised his hand for silence. It was quite evident 
 that the chairman's office was going to be a troublesome 
 one. 
 
 " Ladies and gentlemen," said Michael, after order 
 had settled down, " we have met here to-night to start a 
 company for woolen manufacture." 
 
 " Make it poteen, Michael," cried a voice, " an' as far 
 as half a crown goes, I'm with you." 
 
 " The sheep of this country," went on Michael, un- 
 heeding the interruption or the ripple of laughter that 
 followed it, " have always been first class." 
 
 " Boys," came a meditative voice from the back of the 
 hall, " if men only grew wool, what a fleece Michael 
 could carry." 
 
 A universal roar followed this sally, and was in no 
 way diminished by the evident fury of the chairman. 
 Michael stood up more briskly than might have been 
 expected, and fixed the back portion of the audience with 
 the glare that had so often carried dismay round his 
 bar-parlor. 
 
 " If I go down," he said slowly, " to some of that 
 scum at the back " 
 
 There were no three men in the unreserved seats but 
 would have cowered before Michael's glance in his own 
 bar. His prowess as a " chucker-out " extended even to 
 Belfast. But he was to learn something of the psychol- 
 ogy of a crowd. 
 
 Instantly an angry clamor burst out. 
 
 " Come down here if you dare. Try it on, ye big 
 bully ye. Who are you callin' ' scum,' ye dirty ould 
 lump ye? " One after another joined in, till the result 
 swelled into a fierce roar, evidently abusive, but collect- 
 ively unintelligible.
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 In vain Michael glared threatening and vengeance till 
 the eyeballs nearly started out of his perspiring face ; in 
 vain he shook his fist and bellowed objurgations. The 
 whole platform trembled at his furious stamping; but 
 the crowd at the back of the hall was unimpressed. The 
 younger fry gradually found courage ; and the clangor 
 of their musical instruments swelled the uproar. Then 
 a few pattering shots fell among the occupants of the 
 platform. The example was speedily followed. In a 
 moment the platform was being scourged by volleys of 
 dried peas and beans, and small shot, before which the 
 occupants melted like snow. For a minute or two Mi- 
 chael refused to be intimidated, and withstood the storm 
 manfully. But all the fire gradually concentrated on 
 him, and he was too good a target to be missed. With a 
 final roar of fury he, too, disappeared, amid a wild out- 
 burst of triumph from the mob. 
 
 It needed but a leader, and the platform was stormed. 
 But none was forthcoming. The insubordinate section 
 of the audience was contented with vocal and instrumen- 
 tal celebration of its victory, and even ceased anything 
 but desultory and random firing. The respectable por- 
 tion sat up from the cowering posture they had assumed, 
 and exchanged covert glances of indignation and dis- 
 may. But as Rochefoucauld has said, there is some- 
 thing not wholly displeasing to us in the misfortunes of 
 our friends, and an undercurrent of amusement at the 
 rout of Michael and his satellites soon began to circulate 
 even in the front of the hall. The unspoken sympathy 
 was conveyed by sundry laughing glances to the back, 
 and gradually assuaged the bitterness of the proletariat. 
 Little by little the noise died down, the dropping fusil- 
 lade ceased, and presently there was nothing to be heard 
 but an excited buzz of talk and an occasional burst of 
 laughter. .Soon even that was intimidated into silence 
 by the impassive aspect of the lowered curtain, and the 
 audience settled into a stillness of expectation, not un-
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 205 
 
 mingled with fear lest Michael should be taking his re- 
 venge by abandoning the meeting altogether. 
 
 And indeed Michael, left to himself, would unquestion- 
 ably have done so. His fury when he reached the com- 
 mittee-room was speechless, but so intimidating that 
 when he tore down his coat and hat and made for the 
 door, not a man dared do more than look his dismay. 
 The draper, in anguish to see a chance of public speak- 
 ing slipping from him, made a hasty appeal to Mr. 
 Percy ; but the disparity in bulk was too great even for 
 the de Bullevant blood, and after an appraising glance 
 at Michael's disappearing back Mr. Percy shook his 
 head. 
 
 Not even the momentum of combined weight and rage 
 was, however, capable of forcing Michael down the back 
 stairs, already still more congested by news of the go- 
 ings-on in the hall proper. For a moment he paused 
 irresolutely, and in that moment the blacksmith had 
 caught an inspiration from Mr. Finnegan's appeal to 
 Mr. Percy. He rushed out and seized Michael's coat- 
 tails as the landlord was about to precipitate himself on 
 the defiant riff-raff. 
 
 " Michael," he said eagerly, " I have it." 
 
 " Lemme go," grunted Michael savagely, pulling away 
 from him. The denizens of the top steps vainly tried to 
 clear a lane for the impending avalanche. The crowd at 
 the door below pushed forward to see what was happen- 
 ing, and a wail of terror arose from the unfortunates on 
 the middle steps thus crushed between the upper and 
 the nether millstones : " Oh, Misther Brannegan, dear, 
 wait till we get out. For God's sake, Misther Branne- 
 gan, hould on ! " 
 
 The landlord's fury relaxed somewhat at this evidence 
 that all predominance had not departed from him. He 
 turned to the blacksmith. 
 
 " What do you want? " he grunted. " I'll not go 
 back, if that's what you're after."
 
 206 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 " Listen, Michael," said the blacksmith persuasively, 
 drawing him towards the door of the committee-room. 
 He whispered in the landlord's ear. 
 
 Michael listened, at first unwillingly, then with atten- 
 tion. His features slowly relaxed, and creased into a 
 slow smile. He smote one of his vast thighs with a slap 
 that resounded above all the clamor of the staircase. 
 
 " By the Lord, we'll do it. It'll keep them goin' till 
 Mr. Normanby comes, anyway. But if there's a word 
 then " 
 
 " The divil a cheep'll be in them by that time, you'll 
 see," said the blacksmith. " Sure he'd put down the 
 dangerous ward of a lunatic asylum. He's worse than 
 chloroform." 
 
 " Go on then," said Michael. And the two disap- 
 peared inside. 
 
 The stillness in the hall was beginning to be broken by 
 an occasional tapping of feet when the curtain slowly 
 rose. Instantly a cheer rose in the back seats and 
 swelled forward to die at the footlights in a more decor- 
 ous ripple of hand-clapping. 
 
 Amid a breathless silence Mr. Finnegan walked on to 
 the platform, took up his stand in the middle of it, and 
 unrolled a bundle of manuscript. His prefatory cough 
 was drowned in a universal groan of misery. 
 
 " Oh, Michael, darlin'," piped an anguished voice from 
 the rear, " come back. Come back yourself, an' we'll be 
 good ! " 
 
 But Mr. Finnegan was unperturbed. He coughed 
 again, pulled up his collar a trifle with his unoccupied 
 hand, and began in a steady monotone: 
 
 " Ladies and Gentlemen or, if I may venture to ad- 
 dress you by a more familiar and less formal epithet, my 
 dear friends of the town of Portnamuck." 
 
 He was well under way before the hall aroused itself 
 from its stupor. But then there sprang up a perfect 
 tempest of objurgation and exasperated protest.
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 207 
 
 " Shut up, Finnegan ! Go home, ye ould blether ye ! 
 Dry up ! Close your ould yellow face, Finnegan ! Try 
 it on the missis, Samuel; she's used to it! Go home, 
 Finnegan ! Put him out. Put him out ! " 
 
 The last phrase caught the suffrages of the multitude, 
 which settled down to rhythmic utterance of it, accom- 
 panied by a concerted stamping of feet. 
 
 " Put him out, put him out, put him out! " the ac- 
 cented word delivered along with a thunderous stamp 
 that caused the very gas-lights to tremble. 
 
 Mr. Finnegan, who was long familiar with such 
 demonstrations, imperturbably continued his oration, 
 remorselessly turning over page after page, suffering 
 stoically the storm of light missiles that showered on 
 him. Now and then, in a momentary lull, a word or a 
 phrase emerged : " continued prosperity," " public 
 spirit," " a few of the most influential," " have, as it 
 were, banded themselves," " if I might dare to include 
 myself," and lashed the interrupters to fresh fury. 
 
 But by degrees the tempest slackened and a feeling of 
 hopelessness took hold of even the most determined. 
 The supply of ammunition, too, began to fail ; and the 
 speaker began to gather even greater confidence as his 
 voice became more audible to himself. 
 
 " You may give it up, boys, an' go home," declared 
 one of the ringleaders despondently. " I've heard him 
 on the job before. Nothin' short av a miracle or a half- 
 brick'll stop him now." 
 
 " Hould on a minit," said his neighbor, Paddy Rogan. 
 " I've half a dozen perdas here yet. Keep away from 
 my right arm, an' I'll maybe sink him ! " 
 
 Word of the forlorn hope radiated from Paddy's 
 form, and comparative quiet followed. 
 
 " Go on now, Paddy," muttered his friends eagerly. 
 " Hit him low with a half-boiled one ! " 
 
 Following the best traditions of heavy artillery, 
 Paddy's first shot fell short, and took a small farmer
 
 208 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 in the front row full in the back of the head. A roar 
 of mingled delight and disappointment saluted the 
 effort. 
 
 " Higher, Paddy, higher," urged his supporters. 
 " Put a bit of beef into it, man." 
 
 The second shot sailed over Mr. Finnegan's head, 
 struck the wall behind with a soft thud, and stuck there. 
 Mr. Finnegan started slightly, stumbled over a word or 
 two, but instantly picked himself up. 
 
 "... And by steady industry and unceasing hard 
 work I have succeeded in amassing and gathering to- 
 gether . . . Ouch ! " 
 
 The third potato took him fair in the waistcoat amid 
 a tempest of cheers. The undaunted speaker clawed 
 it off and dropped it on the platform with a single mo- 
 tion of his right hand, and never even raised his eyes 
 from his manuscript. 
 
 " Now, Paddy now, Paddy ; ye have the range," 
 cried the satellites. " One more in the bread-basket, 
 an' he's winded ! " 
 
 But Paddy's success had flurried him. His next shot 
 went high, and the following one even higher. A groan 
 resounded through the hall. 
 
 " Aisy, boys," muttered the marksman between his 
 teeth. " I've one left yet." 
 
 Some such a hush must have fallen as Tell launched 
 the fateful arrow at his devoted child. 
 
 Paddy abandoned his concealing crouch, drew himself 
 to his full height and swayed backward to lend impetus 
 to his missile. Undying fame waited on the shot, and 
 he knew it. Nor was fortune unkind to him. 
 
 With the hiss of a rocket the potato rose in the air, 
 abandoning its mealy integument in the flight. The 
 orator marked its coming, and hastily threw up his 
 hands ; but too late. Just over the edge of the manu- 
 script it sailed. Full and true it smote Mr. Finnegan 
 on the bridge of the nose and filled both his eyes as it
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 209 
 
 burst. The luckless orator staggered back blindly, re- 
 covered, staggered back again, and next instant his heels 
 went up as he disappeared over a chair. A flock of 
 manuscript leaves fluttered in the air, and settled peace- 
 fully on his prostrate body amid a hurricane of cheer- 
 ing such as the Portnamuck Town Hall had seldom re- 
 sounded to before. 
 
 The blacksmith, waiting behind the scenes, recognized 
 the moment, and stepped out to the front of the plat- 
 form as the hapless Mr. Finnegan was borne off. 
 
 " Boys," he said seriously, when the cheering had 
 ceased, " yez have had your bit of fun. Let it be at 
 that. This meetin' is intended to do good to iverybody 
 in this town, to the poor man as well as the rich ; an' one 
 of the finest gentlemen in the county, the Reverend Mr. 
 Normanby, is waitin' behind here to speak to ye/ about 
 it. I'll not let him come on here to be insulted. Will 
 ye listen to him quietly ? " 
 
 The name of Mr. Normanby passed through the hall 
 like an electric shock. 
 
 " It's the fortune," whispered one and another. 
 " He's goin' to back it with the fortune. If Mr. Nor- 
 manby is coming into this it's a big thing." 
 
 As if by magic seriousness fell on the meeting. 
 
 The standing audience at the back subsided like a 
 wave to a universal hushing; a slight shuffling of feet 
 followed as they settled into their places, and then dead 
 silence. 
 
 The blacksmith was satisfied with a glance. 
 
 " Will ye come in now, sir ? " he said to the wings. 
 
 Mr. Normanby came on the platform, and stood for a 
 moment, dazzled by the glaring footlights, then ad- 
 vanced to the front and looked down on the audience 
 with a little quizzical smile. 
 
 " My young friends at the back," he said, " when I 
 was like you I would have enjoyed a little misbehavior 
 as well as you do. But I am rather old now, and not
 
 210 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 very strong ; and perhaps you will try to remember that, 
 and let the meeting proceed quietly, so that I may get 
 home in good time. You will have done a kind action to 
 an old man who will be very grateful to you." 
 
 There was a touch of pathos in the appeal and in the 
 tall venerable figure on the lonely platform that did not 
 need the glamour of newly gained wealth to capture 
 every heart in the room. 
 
 A deep murmur of respect and sympathy resounded 
 through the hall. 
 
 " Och, the poor ould fellow," half sobbed a woman in 
 the front seats ; " give him a clap." 
 
 A volley of applause followed ; and then from the back 
 a deep voice sounded: 
 
 " Mr. Normanby, sir, if there's a man or boy lifts up 
 his voice in this hall to annoy ye, there's two or three of 
 us here'll massacree them ! " 
 
 Mr. Normanby made a little bow of acknowledgment. 
 
 " Thank you, my friends," he said. " Mr. Branne- 
 gan will take the chair, and with your permission we 
 will get on with business." 
 
 There was not a smile as Michael walked on the stage 
 followed by his fellow-promoters. Even when Mr. Fin- 
 negan appeared, his eyes running water as the result of 
 recent excavations, the slight titter that arose was at 
 once scowled down. 
 
 Michael glared morosely at the audience for a mo- 
 ment. 
 
 " In order to save any more waste of valuable time," 
 he snapped, " the accountant will now tell yez what is 
 goin' to be done." 
 
 The accountant stepped nimbly forward, drawing an 
 official-looking typewritten document from his pocket. 
 
 " Mr. Chairman, Ladies and Gentlemen," he said, set- 
 tling his glasses on his nose, " I propose first of all to 
 read you some extracts from the memorandum of asso-
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 elation of the new company, and these I will afterwards 
 explain to you more fully. 
 
 " One. The name of the company is the Portna- 
 muck Woolen Manufacturing Co., Ltd." 
 
 " An' what the divil else would they call it ? " mut- 
 tered Paddy Rogan to his left-hand neighbor. 
 
 " Two. The registered office of the company will be 
 situated in Ireland." 
 
 " Ould Ireland for ever, and down wid the bloody and 
 brutal Saxon," murmured Paddy, whose virtue was 
 weighing heavily on him. 
 
 " Three. The objects of the company " 
 
 " Is sitting on the platform," interjected Paddy to 
 himself. 
 
 " I will go into the objects of the company later," 
 said the accountant parenthetically. 
 
 " Four. The liability of the members is limited 
 
 " And so is 
 
 " Five. The capital of the company " (" Shut 
 up, Paddy," whispered both his neighbors at once.) 
 " is twenty thousand pounds, divided into twenty thou- 
 sand shares of one pound each." 
 
 A sharp intake of breath hissed through the hall. 
 Every soul in it leaned forward eagerly. From that 
 moment on there was not a sound to be heard but the 
 clear precise voice of the chartered accountant.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 DURING the week before the meeting Mr. Wild- 
 ridge, who had hitherto found Mr. Jackson an 
 almost inpeccable cashier, was amazed to ob- 
 serve him progressing daily through a labyrinth of error 
 to an evening balance of anything from a shilling over 
 to from ten shillings to a pound short. He was not 
 long in deciding that there was an intimate connexion 
 between the daily letters from Miss Nora and his cash- 
 ier's sudden burst of inaccuracy ; but for various rea- 
 sons he remained silent. In the first place he was sat- 
 isfied from what he had heard of the deputation to the 
 Rectory that the fortune was really existent, and that, 
 therefore, from a bank point of view he might rest easy. 
 Then he had practically agreed with Miss Nora that 
 any disclosure on the subject was to be made first of 
 all to Mr. Jackson. And finally he had a dim feeling 
 that if the trouble were of a sentimental nature he was 
 not by any means so able to preserve an Olympian atti- 
 tude of aloofness as he had been some weeks before. In 
 addition, and overriding all these thoughts, was the con- 
 sciousness, born of long experience, that if Mr. Jackson 
 could tell anything the best way to get it out of him was 
 to ask no questions. 
 
 And in this he was quite correct. The cashier, forti- 
 fied by his word of honor to Miss Nora, might have with- 
 stood a daily battery of questions ; but in the face of his 
 manager's cheerful assumption that all was going well, 
 he fairly ached to unburden himself of his growing un- 
 easiness. 
 
 For there had been neither telegram nor letter from 
 212
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 Spain. This had been disconcerting enough at the be- 
 ginning of the week ; but when after sufficient time for a 
 reply to Miss Nora's wire there came no letter, and the 
 meeting was only a day off, the situation became des- 
 perate. 
 
 Mr. Normanby, content to leave the affair in his 
 daughter's hands, went his way unconscious of any 
 hitch, and harrowed Nora so much with schemes for the 
 improvement of the town that to keep the public from 
 him she voluntarily imprisoned herself in the house ; and 
 in the pale serious girl who stole out to meet him for a 
 few moments each evening, Mr. Jackson could scarcely 
 recognize his quondam comrade. 
 
 He himself was scarcely less worried; but there was 
 this difference between the two, that while Jackson was 
 decidedly hopeful that all would yet turn out well, he 
 was desperately anxious to obtain the advice of his man- 
 ager; whereas Miss Nora, who became every day more 
 pessimistic, refused almost fiercely to consult Mr. Wild- 
 ridge. 
 
 " I won't, Jacks ; I tell you I won't," she reiterated 
 stubbornly. " I'd almost as soon tell Dad as Mr. Wild- 
 ridge." 
 
 " Well, what on earth are you going to do then, 
 Nora ? " asked Jackson the day before the meeting. 
 " Something must be done before to-morrow night." 
 
 " I know, I know," she almost wailed. " Amn't I 
 nearly distracted trying to think out some plan? Wait 
 a moment or two." She stood in thought. " Jacks," 
 she said, " I won't tell Dad till the very last possible 
 minute that there may be something wrong. After all 
 the castles in the air he has built it would be a dreadful 
 blow to him. It might kill him." 
 
 " Chance it then, Nora," said Jackson. " I believe 
 the money will be all right. Let him promise his sup- 
 port to the factory anyhow. You'll know time enough 
 to let him back out of it later."
 
 2U MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 " No, Jacks, I can't do that," said Miss Nora soberly. 
 " That would kill poor Dad for sure. He'd never hold 
 up his head again. Oh " she ground her teeth in a 
 spasm of rage " if I only had my hands on that little 
 Spanish devil ! Jacks," she cried, " we'll not say die 
 yet, anyhow. The English mail comes in to-morrow 
 night at half-past eight, and dad's not going to the 
 meeting till after that. There'll maybe be a letter ; and 
 if there isn't we'll have time to stop him saying any- 
 thing." 
 
 Mr. Jackson breathed with relief. It was twenty- 
 four hours' release from responsibility. 
 
 " I'll meet the post and come straight here," he said. 
 *' There's sure to be a letter, Nora." 
 
 " Right-oh, Jacks," said Nora, almost gaily. " I'll 
 call you Elijah the Second if it comes off. I say, 
 Jacks," anxiously " you won't fail me? " 
 
 " I'll be there from eight," said Jackson. " But, 
 Nora," he hesitated " if there's no letter you'll 
 let me consult the manager, won't you ? " 
 
 " No, no, NO," cried Nora violently. " Come by 
 yourself, or I'll never forgive you." She made a few 
 steps towards the house, then turned to the discomfited 
 cashier. " I'd rather anybody in the world should 
 know than Mr. Wildridge ! " 
 
 " Good Lord," said Mr. Jackson to himself, as he 
 gazed ruefully after her, " what a spite she has at the 
 boss!" 
 
 During the following day his thoughts were such a 
 chaos that it was without any surprise he found himself 
 balancing over one hundred and twenty pounds short! 
 So large a shortage, unlikely to turn out an actual loss, 
 seldom alarms a bank cashier, and it was not till about 
 six o'clock, when the deficit, reduced to ninety-five 
 pounds, obstinately refused to become any less, that Mr. 
 Jackson in alarm began to put his own affairs in the 
 foreground of his mind.
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 215 
 
 " I say, sir," he said in a rather scared voice to his 
 manager, " this begins to look rather bad. What had 
 I better do?" 
 
 " Cut off home for your dinner," said the manager. 
 " You're too hungry and tired to work now. When you 
 come back you'll be fresh and clear-headed again, and 
 you'll find the mistake in a twinkling. Maybe I'll have 
 found it for you. I'll come straight downstairs after 
 dinner. Off with you now, and don't think about it till 
 you return." 
 
 But when Mr. Jackson returned at seven o'clock the 
 money had not turned up ; and at twenty minutes past 
 eight, half distracted between his anxiety about Nora 
 and his own apparent catastrophe, disheveled into a car- 
 icature of his usual spruceness, and inked to the wrists, 
 he was still ninety-five pounds short. 
 
 The manager, who had been working loyally on every 
 possible and impossible clue, was scarcely less perturbed. 
 
 " We'll have to make a night of it, Jackson, my son," 
 he said, " and give up all thought of the meeting. We 
 can't possibly go off leaving you that amount short." 
 
 " I'll have to go now, sir, short or not," said Jackson 
 with a despairing look at the clock. " I promised to 
 bring Nora a letter from the English mail, and I must 
 do it." 
 
 " A promise is a promise," said the manager, " par- 
 ticularly in this case. I'll work here till you return. 
 Or, look here, Jackson," he said with a little hesitation, 
 " I'll take the letter to Miss Nora." 
 
 " I wish to heavens you could, sir," cried the harassed 
 cashier whole-heartedly ; " but if I let you she'd have 
 my life." 
 
 " Oh, of course, if you think that," returned the man- 
 ager, smiling tolerantly. 
 
 " I know you think it's my cheek, sir," said Jack- 
 son ("Where the dickens is my hat? ")--" but " 
 he hesitated " she told me so herself."
 
 216 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 In spite of himself the manager looked glum. 
 
 " Oh, she told you that, did she," he said slowly. 
 (" Perhaps now you'll remember, friend Wildridge, that 
 to a girl of that age you're a bald-headed old bore," he 
 reflected to himself with a half -humorous bitterness.) 
 " Hurry back then, Mr. Jackson," he went on, a little 
 more formally. " In the interests of the Bank I should 
 like, if possible, to look into the meeting. I'm invited, 
 you know, as well as the Opposition." 
 
 Mr. Jackson made his way slowly to the door, paused, 
 then came back to the counter with a rush. 
 
 " I say, sir," he burst out. " I can't hold in any 
 longer. There's a muddle over the fortune, a devil of a 
 muddle. Will you stay here till I return in spite of the 
 meeting? Old Berryman can't go anyway; he's got in- 
 fluenza." 
 
 " To be sure I will if you wish it, my dear Jackson," 
 said the manager with concern. " I'm as much inter- 
 ested in the fortune in a bank sense as you are 
 yourself. But if Miss Nora won't let you tell me any- 
 thing " 
 
 " She will tell you she must tell you," stammered 
 Jackson excitedly. " I've been worried to death for a 
 week over it all, and now I've near broke myself. She'll 
 come down now and tell you herself if I have to carry 
 her!" 
 
 " She's a big, well-nourished girl," said the manager 
 dubiously. 
 
 " For heaven's sake don't chaff me, sir," cried Jack- 
 son. " I'm nearly astray in the head as it is. We'll 
 be back in twenty minutes." 
 
 He vanished behind the swinging doors, but in a mo- 
 ment reappeared, breathless. 
 
 " Of course if the letter comes I'll not be able to tell 
 you at all, sir. But it won't come, no more than I'll 
 find my ninety-five pounds. I couldn't have that much 
 luck ! " And he vanished for the second time.
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 217 
 
 The manager regarded the oscillating doors expect- 
 antly, but his cashier did not again return. He re- 
 mained in thought for a short space, then shrugged his 
 shoulders, smiled whimsically, and lighting a cigarette 
 was soon deeply immersed in Mr. Jackson's accounts. 
 
 Meanwhile the cashier had pushed his way into the 
 post office through the usual crowd of women, whom 
 even the attraction of the meeting had not been able to 
 divert from their customary rendezvous. 
 
 " Anything for me, Lizzie ? " he demanded from the 
 postmistress's young assistant. " Hurry up, like a 
 good girl." 
 
 Now in spite of his preoccupation at the Rectory Mr. 
 Jackson in the past had not been above the little dalli- 
 ance demanded by Miss Lizzie's youth and undoubted 
 good looks, and she resented his bruskness. 
 
 " The letters aren't sorted yet, Mr. Jackson," she 
 answered coldly. " I'll tell you in a minute or two." 
 
 In spite of Mr. Jackson's anxiety about the letter he 
 could not help his thoughts turning to the possibility, 
 or rather impossibility, of his having paid some one out 
 a hundred pounds instead of five; and he gazed with 
 annoying absent-mindedness at the pretty assistant 
 when she told him there were no letters for him. 
 
 Then all at once he awoke to the significance of her 
 reply. 
 
 " No letters, Lizzie," he asked in dismay ; " are you 
 sure?" 
 
 " Positive," answered Lizzie with a certain amount of 
 satisfaction. 
 
 " I knew it," said Jackson to himself slowly. 
 " What on earth's to be done now? " Then, " What a 
 fool I am," he thought suddenly. " Lizzie Lizzie ; I 
 mean for Mr. Normanby." 
 
 " There's nothing for Mr. Normanby," answered Liz- 
 zie primly ; " or for Miss Normanby either," she added 
 with a toss of her head.
 
 218 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 " Nothing? " demanded Jackson, but without convic- 
 tion. 
 
 " Nothing," answered Lizzie positively ; " not even a 
 bill," she fired after him as he hurried out. 
 
 All the way to the Rectory Mr. Jackson's brain rang 
 the changes on two themes : " What on earth will Nora 
 do now? " and " Surely I couldn't have lost ninety-five 
 pounds ? " but connected thought on either was utterly 
 beyond him. A hundred yards from the gate his pace 
 slowed down, and he came almost to a full stop. Then 
 he started forward again. 
 
 " She must tell him," he muttered determinedly, and 
 opened the gate. 
 
 Half-way up the avenue Miss Nora started out of the 
 bushes. 
 
 " Whatever kept you, Jacks," she uttered breath- 
 lessly. " Is there a letter ? " 
 
 " No letter, Nora," said Jackson. 
 
 There was a moment's pause. 
 
 " Oh, the little devil, the little devil," ground out Miss 
 Normanby between her teeth ; " if I only had him here ! 
 And Dad's gone off to the meeting. What am I to do, 
 Jacks ; what am I to do ? " 
 
 " Upon my soul, Nora," muttered Jacks lamely, " I 
 can't tell you." 
 
 " Think, man, think, can't you ? " She grasped his 
 arm and shook it furiously. " Am I to tell Dad or 
 not?" 
 
 " Look here, Nora," said Jackson, " I can't think. 
 I'm ninety-five pounds short in my cash 
 
 " Oh, hang your old cash," cried Miss Nora. " I 
 don't mean it, Jacks. I'm real sorry; but can't you 
 spare a thought for me ? " 
 
 " Well, upon my soul, I like that," returned Jackson 
 with heat, " when it was thinking of this infernal Span- 
 ish business made me lose my money. You must come 
 along to the manager, Nora. Do now. He's had any
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 219 
 
 amount of experience. He'll advise you, and we can 
 still get to the meeting in time." 
 
 Miss Normanby stood for a moment in hesitation. 
 
 " I can't, I can't," she burst out. " I'd die of shame 
 if it all turns out to be a fraud, and he finds out what 
 a juggins I've been!" 
 
 An inspiration came to Mr. Jackson. 
 
 " Listen, Nora," he said ; " you remember that fifty 
 pounds ? You thought I gave it to you. But I didn't. 
 It was the manager. And not from the Bank at all. 
 Out of his own pocket, for fear you'd be in a hole." 
 
 Miss Nora did not speak for a moment. Then, " I 
 say, Jacks," she asked with a curious inflexion in her 
 voice, " did he give it to me off' his own bat you didn't 
 ask him, I mean? " 
 
 " It was his own notion entirely," said the cashier. 
 " Of course I'd have given it to you myself if I'd had 
 it," he added hastily. 
 
 " And after I'd played him that rotten trick about 
 the rat," continued Miss Nora, unheeding. " Come 
 along, Jacks, quick," she cried, hurying towards the 
 gate. " There'll be time enought to stop Dad after- 
 wards if we don't lose a minute. Quick, quick, Jacks; 
 come along ! "
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 THE hall door of the Bank was opened by the 
 manager himself, with his hat on, ready to go 
 out. 
 
 " Keep cool, Jackson, my son," said the manager, 
 stepping back to admit his agitated subordinate ; " your 
 ninety-five pounds have turned up a hundred of gold 
 put up in a five-pound silver bag. ' Infinite riches in a 
 little room,' eh? " 
 
 " Whoop ! " shouted the delighted cashier, dancing 
 round in momentary forgetfulness of Miss Normanby 
 out on the steps. " Nora, Nora," he called, " come in. 
 I've found my money." 
 
 " Gracious," exclaimed the manager, throwing wide 
 the door, " is Miss Normanby there? " 
 
 Miss Nora stepped into the hall and stood dazzled in 
 the light. A deep blush intensified the glow of exercise 
 in her cheeks, and her curls hung round her face in an 
 adorable tangle. As she looked at the manager with a 
 swift shyness clouding the frankness of her eyes he felt 
 twenty-five again. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Wildridge," she began, " you'll think me 
 awful coming to see you like this " 
 
 " Faith, it's the last thought in my mind. Sure I'm 
 only an old fellow," said the manager, pressing her hand 
 with a warmth somewhat out of keeping with his words. 
 " Come upstairs, children, and I'll have in Jane to play 
 propriety when she washes her face." 
 
 " We can't, Mr. Wildridge," said Miss Nora breath- 
 lessly. " There isn't time. I'm in such a dreadful 
 hole; oh, won't you advise me and help me?" Pier 
 voice shook. 
 
 220
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 821 
 
 " And will I not ? " answered the manager, patting 
 her hand reassuringly. 
 
 " Quick, Jacks," said Miss Nora eagerly. " Tell him. 
 There's not a moment to be lost." 
 
 In as few words as possible Jackson ran over the 
 whole episode of the Spanish turnkey. All the time 
 Miss Nora looked anxiously in the manager's face. But 
 it remained impassive. Only when the recital came to 
 an end his soft patting of Miss Nora's hand ceased, and 
 he laid his hand firmly on hers. 
 
 " Can you stand a hard knock, big girl? " he answered 
 to her anxious look. Miss Nora nodded without speak- 
 ing. 
 
 "It's just an old, old swindle then, my dear," said 
 the manager ; " but an ingenious one that might have 
 taken in more experienced people than you or your 
 father. I wish, I wish you had confided in me long ago. 
 Never mind now," he added hastily, as the girl's lip' 
 trembled ; " we're all right still. There's time yet to 
 stop your father from promising anything. Keep up 
 your heart." 
 
 " But he 's gone to the meeting half an hour ago, sir," 
 said Jackson. 
 
 " Never say die," returned the manager, throwing 
 open the door. " Maybe Finnegan will be in the chair ; 
 and I hear he's a terror. Bang the door, Jackson. 
 Come on now, children " he grasped Miss Norman- 
 by's hand and broke into a run " make for the Town 
 Hall like " 
 
 " Like blazes," whispered Miss Nora mischievously, 
 her spirits rising as she ran. " Are you shocked? " 
 
 " The very word I wanted," answered the manager 
 gaily. " And amn't I delighted to see you keeping up 
 your heart." 
 
 " Oh, hang the old money," panted Miss Nora, " if 
 we're only in time to save Dad." 
 
 " And we will be, too," said the manager between
 
 222 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 gasps. " Look at the crowd. The meeting's not half 
 over." 
 
 " Make for the back door, sir," panted Mr. Jackson 
 from the rear, " and we'll get straight up on to the plat- 
 form. My goodness, sir, it's packed with people ! " 
 
 And by this time indeed, between the news of the dis- 
 turbance inside and the timely shutting of the front 
 doors by the caretaker, the back door of the hall was 
 besieged by forty or fifty people, while the condition of 
 the passage and stairs was indescribable. A mingled 
 stream of shrieks, appeals, and oaths floated out on the 
 night, but only stimulated the desire of those outside to 
 obtain entrance. Every few moments the crowd at the 
 door was violently convulsed, a disheveled figure would 
 emerge, and the numbers would be diminished as the rush 
 into the vacuum created packed the passage even more 
 tightly than before. 
 
 " No use trying there," said the manager. " Make 
 for the front door." 
 
 " Wait a minute, sir," said Mr. Jackson, recognizing 
 the latest fugitive from the crush. " Terry," he asked 
 eagerly, " do you think we could get Miss Normanby 
 up by the stairs ? " 
 
 Terry's disconsolate glance at the tattered skirts of 
 his coat changed to a smile as he looked up and recog- 
 nized the cashier. 
 
 " Sure, Misther Jackson, ye can't do betther than 
 try. An' bedambut if ye get her the length of the foot 
 av the stairs, she'll get a squeeze the like av she niver 
 got in her life before, not makin' little av yourself, Mis- 
 ther Jackson, in any way." 
 
 " Come on to the front door, sir," said Jackson in 
 some confusion. " Maybe it's not so bad." 
 
 " Listen, now, Misther Jackson," whispered Terry 
 anxiously, " you're makin' a mistake. The divil a bit 
 harm it'll do her. Slip your arm round her waist as ye 
 go in, an' she'll think you're doin' it all yourself.
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 223 
 
 Run," he cried suddenly, " bedambut the boss is away 
 wid her ! " 
 
 When Jackson reached the front of the hall he found 
 his manager parleying with the caretaker through the 
 door. 
 
 " It's Miss Normanby, I tell you. She wishes to 
 speak to her father." 
 
 " That's not Miss Normanby's voice," came from in- 
 side. " An' anyway you can't get Mr. Normanby now. 
 He's up speaking." 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Wildridge," cried Miss Nora in an agony 
 of distress, " we're going to be just too late. Let me in, 
 Robinson, you old fool, or I'll not leave a window in the 
 place ! " She looked round hastily for ammunition, 
 and as luck would have it picked up one of Paddy Ro- 
 gan's plundered potatoes that he had dropped going in, 
 as being insufficiently boiled. 
 
 " Don't, Nora, for goodness' sake," begged the 
 alarmed cashier as Nora raised her hand. 
 
 " Shut up, Jackson," ordered his chief sharply. 
 " Put it through the fanlight, quick," he said to the hes- 
 itating Nora. " It will maybe interrupt the meeting." 
 
 But that moment the door opened cautiously, and the 
 next the three were inside over the prostrate body of 
 the overturned caretaker. 
 
 The hall was packed, and every passage closed with 
 a dense mass of humanity. Away at the platform end 
 the venerable figure of Mr. Normanby could be dimly 
 descried through the haze of dust raised by the approv- 
 ing stamp of feet. Every now and then his clear thin 
 tones could be heard between the bursts of applause. 
 
 " We can never reach him," gasped Miss Nora. 
 " Oh, Mr. Wildridge, what are we to do ? " 
 
 " Wait," cried the manager, hastening back to the 
 door. " Here, caretaker, push through the crowd 
 they'll let you pass and tell Mr. Normanby his 
 daughter is ill. A sovereign if you do it. Hurry,
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 now don't blarney ! " He pushed the bewildered 
 man into the skirts of the crowd. 
 
 For a few feet the caretaker made progress. The 
 crush at the door was not quite so dense as in the body 
 of the hall, and the attempt of the caretaker was a sur- 
 prise. But the instant his purpose of interruption was 
 divined, he was wedged hopelessly, and a dozen brawny 
 fists awed him into silence. All he could do was to sig- 
 nal to the manager the hopelessness of further struggle. 
 
 " Call, Nora," cried Mr. Jackson in spluttering ex- 
 citement. " Call ; your father will recognize the voice." 
 
 But the attention of the audience round the door had 
 been attracted by the caretaker's attempt. In some 
 mysterious way they realized that the diversion was a 
 hostile one. At his daughter's ringing " Dad ! " Mr. 
 Normanby paused for a puzzled moment; but all else 
 was lost in a burst of applause from about the door. 
 In vain Miss Nora flashed lightning on the offenders 
 from her indignant eyes. Every time she attempted to 
 speak her words were deliberately drowned. 
 
 " That's right, boys," cried Paddy Rogan as she de- 
 sisted breathlessly ; " don't let her speak. She wants 
 to keep the money in the family, and not give the poor 
 man a chance." 
 
 A menacing roar of " Silence ! " rose from every part 
 of the hall. In the pause that followed, Mr. Norman- 
 by's voice traveled clear and distinct to the trio at the 
 door : " Time now that I came to my share in the ven- 
 ture " 
 
 Miss Nora turned to the manager in despairing res- 
 ignation. But her lip quivered. 
 
 " It's all up, Mr. Wildridge. You've been a brick." 
 A sudden spasm of fury seized her. " Oh, that scoun- 
 drel Rogan ! " She spun on her heel and glared at the 
 triumphant face of her persecutor. His triumph was 
 short-lived. Like a stone from a catapult the potato 
 flew from Miss Nora's hand. Paddy's bellow of an-
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 225 
 
 guish as it took him full in the left eye was followed by a 
 peal of laughter from his delighted cronies, who ac- 
 knowledged the poetic justice of his calamity. Again 
 a roar of " Silence ! " burst from the remainder of the 
 audience. The speaker paused uncertainly. 
 
 "By the powers," ejaculated the manager, slapping 
 his thigh in delight, " I have it ! Quick, blow down a 
 gaspipe. Where's there an unlighted jet? " 
 
 Miss Nora jumped into the air, clapping her hands. 
 
 " Oh, you darling," she cried. " Lift me, Jacks. 
 There's one above your head ! " 
 
 Mr. Jackson passed his arm round her waist. 
 
 Infatuation seized him at the contact. For an in- 
 finitesimal instant he pressed her to him. The next he 
 staggered back with his face tingling from a slap de- 
 livered with all the force of Miss Nora's vigorous young 
 arm. 
 
 " You fool you fool ! " she hissed in white rage. 
 " Oh, Mr. Wildridge, lift me, quick ! " 
 
 Instantly the manager swung her aloft. 
 
 " Blow now, daughter," he cried anxiously, " blow 
 like like blazes ! " 
 
 All the breath in Miss Nora's lungs exhaled in one 
 desperate puff. She drew a deep inspiration and again 
 blew into the jet. 
 
 " That should do," she gasped, and slithered down 
 inside the manager's arms. She stood there close be- 
 side him. The manager's right arm lay lightly round 
 her waist. She grasped his hand convulsively. All 
 three looked eagerly at the door of the hall. 
 
 Slowly the light failed. The one jet in their view 
 shrunk little by little. Semi-darkness fell on the hall. 
 Some one screamed. But the voice of the orator con- 
 tinued placidly, a little louder even, the better to cope 
 with the diversion: 
 
 " And out of the great wealth that has come to me I 
 propose to assist this project by taking up shares "
 
 226 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 (" Oh," breathed Miss Nora. The gas-light shrunk 
 to a blue pin-point) "to the extent" Mr. Nor- 
 manby made a dramatic pause (" Oh, quick, quick," 
 prayed Miss Nora franticaUy) ' of ten thousand 
 pounds ! " 
 
 The gas flapped faintly and went out. 
 
 Instantly pandemonium arose in the hall ; a tumult of 
 cheering, shouting, and screams. Wives called pite- 
 ously on their husbands and children; children howled 
 for their parents, and their fathers alternately swore 
 and pacified them ; the town youths whistled shrilly to 
 their chums ; forms fell heavily, and people tumbled over 
 them. A confused mass of humanity poured out of the 
 hall laughing, cursing, shrieking, and struggling. In 
 an instant the vestibule was filled. The caretaker, cast 
 up against the doors by the first wave, tugged fran- 
 tically at the bars and roared encouragement high above 
 the tumult. But, as usual in such places, the doors 
 opened inwards, and all his efforts were fruitless. A 
 dismal wailing of women arose as the pressure from the 
 hall increased. For a few minutes tragedy was at hand. 
 Then some one thought of the emergency doors at the 
 side, which opened outwards. The bolts were pulled, 
 and in a twinkling a dense current of men, women, and 
 children foamed into the street. 
 
 At the first rush the manager had drawn Miss Nora 
 into a safe corner behind a pillar. 
 
 For a sickening space of terror she clung to him as 
 the dreadful crush increased. 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Wildridge," she sobbed, "they'll all be 
 killed, they'll all be killed ; and I did it ! " 
 
 The manager shielded her protectingly, and patted 
 her shoulder softly. She could not hear his murmured 
 words ; but the tone was cool and confident, and with an 
 effort she became calm. Then suddenly the side doors 
 burst open. The pressure at once slackened. The 
 front doors were forced back from outside, and the
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 crowd poured out in a broad, almost orderly mass. 
 Her anxiety for her father, momentarily obscured by 
 the instant stress of peril, returned with full force. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Wildridge," she moaned, " poor Dad, poor 
 old Dad. How will I tell him now, when he has pledged 
 himself before the whole town? The disgrace will kill 
 him, it will kill my poor Dad." 
 
 She laid her head on the manager's shoulder, and 
 burst into a convulsive spasm of distress. 
 
 The manager's arm tightened round her waist. With 
 his other hand he stroked her hair softly. 
 
 " Easy, Nora girl," he murmured soothingly, " don't 
 distress yourself like that. Be a plucky big girl, as 
 you've shown yourself to-night. Let me think it all out, 
 and maybe you'll not need to tell him." 
 
 He felt her raise her head. 
 
 " Can you do anything? " she uttered in incredulous 
 delight ; " oh, can you do anything? " 
 
 He drew her closer to him in the darkness. The very 
 immaturity of the lithe young body that yielded towards 
 his thrilled him headily. What is philosophy in such a 
 moment, even when a man is thirty-eight? 
 
 " Nora," he whispered unsteadily, " if you'll trust me 
 I'll get you out of this mess should I die for it ! " 
 
 " Oh," she murmured he could scarcely catch the 
 shy whisper " I'd trust you with anything." 
 
 Her head sank forward on his shoulder, the cool, 
 fresh cheek touched his. Slowly the manager raised the 
 half-reluctant chin, then bent his lips to hers. 
 
 " No," muttered the girl appealingly ; " please, no 
 
 please I promised mother only to " Her 
 
 voice died into a whisper, and with a sudden movement 
 she hid her face again on his shoulder. 
 
 " Only to whom, Nora ? " asked the manager thickly. 
 
 She moved her head a little. The soft mouth touched 
 his ear. 
 
 " You you know," she breathed.
 
 228 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 Not even the guardian angel of the middle-aged is 
 always at his post. 
 
 Swiftly the manager bent his head. The little chin 
 yielded to his coaxing pressure. The fragrant lips were 
 just beneath his. 
 
 At this moment the manager's eye caught the arc of 
 phosphoric light as the head of a match hissed along the 
 leg of the caretaker's trousers. The experience of a 
 youth not devoid of gallantry served the manager well. 
 Before the gas flared he and the bewildered Miss Nora 
 were being borne down the steps by the thinning stream 
 of populace. 
 
 As they emerged from the crowd gathered round the 
 doors they were pounced upon by Jackson. 
 
 " Hallo, sir," he exclaimed joyfully; " I thought you 
 were both done for." 
 
 " We were very near it, Jackson, my son," said .the 
 manager soberly. " Another second or two, and it was 
 all up with us. Is Mr. Normanby all right ? " 
 
 " Right as a trivet, sir," returned Mr. Jackson. 
 " There was no rush by the platform." 
 
 " Then, hey ! for the Rectory, Miss Normanby," 
 cried the manager, tucking her arm into his. " Which 
 street, Jackson? Oh, by the way," he said, as the 
 cashier rather pointedly took up a position on the man- 
 ager's side, " don't you know Miss Normanby? " 
 
 " Bearing malice, are you, Jacks ? " demanded Miss 
 Nora with her normal ease of manner. 
 
 " No," answered Mr. Jackson after a slight hesita- 
 tion. He changed across to Miss Nora's side. " But 
 if I wasn't in good form after finding my ninety-five 
 pounds, I would. You've a hand like a blacksmith, 
 Nora ; and you're deuced fond of using it." 
 
 " Now look here, Jacks," said Miss Nora, " it was 
 the wrong time to play the goat, wasn't it? " 
 
 " I wasn't doing anything," protested Mr. Jackson.
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 229 
 
 " But I say, Nora, how are you in such good form ? I 
 thought you'd be in the dumps altogether." 
 
 The manager was conscious that his arm was receiv- 
 ing a little squeeze. 
 
 " Mr. Jackson," he said rather formally, " I've been 
 telling Miss Nora that I think there's a possible way out 
 of the tangle. Mind, I'm not quite sure that there is " 
 he heard Miss Nora's gasp of dismay, and resolutely 
 drew her arm farther into his " but if you two chil- 
 dren will let me think hard between here and the Rec- 
 tory gates I hope to be able to see daylight." 
 
 With the exception of a curt " Shut up, Jacks," from 
 Miss Nora in answer to a prefatory cough of the cash- 
 ier, silence was observed all the way. 
 
 " Well? " asked Miss Nora hopefully, as they stopped 
 at the gate. 
 
 " Don't vex your curly head about it to-night then, 
 Nora," said the manager, a little fatherly ; " for I think 
 I can find a way." 
 
 " Really and truly ? " said Miss Nora slowly. She 
 came nearer him as she stretched out her hand. 
 
 " Really and truly," answered the manager. His 
 tight, lingering hand-clasp was by no means so fatherly. 
 " Sleep well ; Jackson and I will pull you through. And 
 not a word to Mr. Normanby. I'll see you to-morrow 
 evening, sure." 
 
 " No," said Miss Normanby, and only one of the two 
 men marked the note in her voice; " if you tell me not 
 to, I'll not worry. 'Night, Jacks." 
 
 And her retreating steps on the gravel walk sounded 
 firm and confident. 
 
 " By the Lord Harry, Jackson," said the manager, 
 looking after her, " she's a great girl. And now, my 
 son, don't say a word to me except ' Good night.' I 
 have a bit of meditating to do ; and to-morrow you and I 
 will put our heads together."
 
 30 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 The manager sat ever the fire in deep thought for the 
 space of two pipes. Then he knocked out the ashes of 
 the second slowly against the heel of his boot, blew 
 through the pipe absent-mindedly, laid it on the man- 
 telpiece, and turned to his bedroom. After undressing 
 he stood up in his pyjamas for a minute or two, then 
 walked over to the looking-glass, and gazed thoughtfully 
 at the baldness above his temples. He stood there for 
 another minute or two. 
 
 " I don't care a d n," he said suddenly and vio- 
 lently, blew out the candle, and jumped into bed.
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 BUT in the morning vitality is at its lowest and 
 common sense has proportionately increased. 
 The manager, pacing up and down his dining- 
 room waiting for breakfast, had lost his overnight look 
 of complacency, and each fresh contemplation of his 
 bald temples in the sideboard mirror seemed to add to 
 his uneasiness. 
 
 Nevertheless, when the current of his thought turned 
 to the previous night, his features relaxed. 
 
 " No, I've never met a girl to be compared with her," 
 he reflected, " straight and frank and loyal, and as 
 fresh as a spring morning. And the eyes of her, and 
 the hair, and the figure. And that's nothing to what it 
 will be in five years' time. Aye, you old fool," he apos- 
 trophized himself " and by that time you'll be nearly 
 forty-four. Oh Lord, why didn't I meet the like of her 
 ten years ago." His thoughts floated away in a day- 
 dream. 
 
 Presently he pulled himself up with a start. 
 
 " Now, Anthony, my son," he addressed himself seri- 
 ously, " all this is mere physical attraction well, the 
 basis of it is. She might be as frank and as loyal and 
 as loving and gad, how she loves her old father, and 
 how she sticks to him, and how she'll love some lucky 
 fellow, maybe Jackson, some time but if she weren't 
 the young Diana she is, how much would you care? 
 
 " It might be Jackson too. He has much on his side, 
 youth and good looks, and propinquity. And the boy is 
 attracted by her. He was first in the field too. In 
 common sportsmanship you couldn't enter against him, 
 niy dear Anthony. 
 
 231
 
 232 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 " Yes, you could, and without any treachery. He 
 doesn't really appreciate her. So far she's nothing 
 more to him than a jolly girl comrade. She puzzles him 
 nearly as much as she attracts him. If he left the town 
 to-morrow he'd forget her for a new flame in a month's 
 time. Look how he wavered towards that commonplace 
 little Miss Woodburn. 
 
 "But could you cut him out? She likes you; you 
 know she does. You've tried to make her like you. 
 Could she be brought to do anything more? Have you 
 tried to bring her to do anything more? And have you 
 succeeded? 
 
 " Putting Jackson out of the question, can you with- 
 draw in honor to somebody else? Was she content to 
 yield to your kiss last night? You know what value 
 she attaches to a kiss ; yes, you do ; she told you. Was 
 she willing to give you the kiss and the implicit pledge? 
 
 " No," said the manager violently to himself, " pre- 
 posterous, ridiculous ! I won't consider it for a mo- 
 ment, I wont. 
 
 " And look here, Anthony, my son," the manager 
 took himself in hand seriously, " here you are with a 
 comfortable house, a good job, a certain amount of 
 leisure, all the books you are ever likely to read 
 though you'll buy more and plenty of time to read 
 them. Would you be such an infernal ass as to bring 
 in a young Eve into this Paradise of yours, to drag you 
 off every fine afternoon to play golf or tennis, or maybe 
 Lord knows to hunt rats, and in the winter-time 
 to turn you out of your comfortable arm-chair that you 
 may take her off to a dance where every young fellow 
 in the room will be whirling her round and you propped 
 up against the wall looking at her a deal oftener than 
 she'll look at you? You'll not be in this little place al- 
 ways, you know; in fact, if you married her, the Bank 
 would make a point of moving you. 
 
 " Oh, you can dance, I know you can and you fancy
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 233 
 
 yourself at tennis still, and you were a good cricketer, 
 and can potter at golf. But was your heart ever in 
 these things? Wasn't the quiet half-hour among your 
 books before you turned in worth them all? And then 
 there's your books themselves. She's a darling girl, no 
 doubt, and not so unlettered as you thought. She once 
 took up an allusion of yours rather cleverly. But 
 would she really have the true feeling for books 
 your feeling? It is not to be hoped for. 
 
 " You know she would turn down leaves to mark her 
 place; you know she would lay open books face down- 
 ward on breakfast tables, and that a grease-spot would 
 spoil the finest passage in Shakespeare for you; you 
 know she would set hot teacups and damp flower-cases 
 on your most beloved bindings ; you have seen her fatal 
 facility in marksmanship; if she wished to shy some- 
 thing at the cat and a book were at hand, would she 
 pause to seek a less hallowed missile? 
 
 " And there are your books at your hand, arranged as 
 seems good to you and well, moderately unchanging 
 in their order. Think of dusting housemaids and spring 
 cleanings. A bachelor may blackguard his domestics, 
 but a husband daren't. And your shelves are catholic 
 in their hospitality. You have no Chamber of Horrors. 
 You have outgrown the prudery of your callow days. 
 There is old Rabelais jostling Izaak Walton, and Sterne 
 chcek-by-jowl with Sir Thomas Browne for all you 
 know discussing the propagation of men and trees ; and 
 over there in a corner the ' Memoirs of de Grammont ' 
 side by side with * Grace Abounding.' Could you ex- 
 pect, or would you desire such mellow tolerance in a 
 wife; and if you found it, for how many years would 
 that put off the evil day when you must have not one but 
 a host of skeletons hidden in your cupboard from certain 
 young eyes ? 
 
 " Then there's another side of it." The manager 
 took down a handbook from the mantelpiece. " Ac-
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 cording to the best insurance statistics and insurance 
 figures don't lie, whatever agents may do your ex- 
 pectation of life is twenty-eight years and hers is forty- 
 four. When you die you'll leave a comparatively young 
 and fresh woman to drag out sixteen years in loneliness, 
 that is if she doesn't marry again the very thought 
 of which, my dear Anthony, even though the contingency 
 is twenty-eight years away, is simply damnable. No ; 
 your course is clear." 
 
 The manager rose to his feet again, and began to walk 
 up and down the room more uncertainly than one would 
 have expected in the case of a man who had just made 
 up his mind. 
 
 He came to a stop on the hearthrug, and stood there 
 thinking hard. 
 
 " Look here, Anthony," he apostrophized himself with 
 decision, " maybe you're right, maybe you're just a self- 
 ish, lazy fellow, and don't want to give up your books 
 and your ease ; and maybe there's a trace of unselfishness 
 and consideration for another there too. But what you 
 are going to do is this : the girl is in a hole, and a bad 
 hole ; and you can get her out of it and leave her better 
 off and delivered from all the worries and temptations of 
 the hard-up, especially the hard-up girl. If you've been 
 a little thoughtless and indiscreet, tJiat is your atone- 
 ment; and when it's accomplished you're going to call 
 quits whether your conscience likes it or not. No more 
 philandering. Henceforward your attitude towards 
 Miss Nora Normanby is to be strictly fatherly. And 
 whoever she may marry in the end, decidedly Jackson 
 must get his chance. 
 
 " We'll hope, my dear Anthony," continued the man- 
 ager, as he made his way down the stairs with a preoc- 
 cupied air, " that you won't be exposed to anything very 
 special in the way of temptation ; for a worse hand at 
 keeping resolutions as far as girls are concerned, I'm 
 not acquainted with. And now," he pulled himself to-
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 235 
 
 gether as he turned the handle of the office door, " to 
 hearten up the flagging Jackson." 
 
 An opportunity at once presented itself. Mr. Jack- 
 son was leaning against his desk chuckling heartily over 
 a very dilapidated document. 
 
 " I say, sir," he cried, " read this. It's a letter from 
 Liza O'Brien, one of our billholders." 
 
 The manager took the letter from his subordinate's 
 hand: 
 
 " DEAR MR. JACKSON, I take up my pen to write 
 you these few lines on account of our bill been due on the 
 twenty-ninth. I want you to renew it for another 
 month as we were killing pigs we fetched the Butcher 
 this last Monday and the were all red spots and he says 
 that the will not do to kill for another fortnight and do 
 please the new man will not say a word I am sure as I 
 am laid up since Tuesday morning I have got another 
 Baby on Tuesday morning that is 13 of them 8 boys and 
 5 girls I think I have my share. Dear Mr. Jackson I 
 hope your Mistress will never overtake me for it is a 
 queer trial rearing a big family and my Husband got his 
 back renched lifting the chill plow anid has not been 
 able to go about since April we never had as bad crops 
 as long as I mind and our store cattle did not thrive 
 forby there was no price for them we hardly made the 
 grocer's bill instead of making fifty pounds so you can 
 fill the bill and give it to the wee boy and as soon as ever 
 we kill the pigs I will take you in all I can and please do 
 this for me as I am lying and I will never forget you for 
 it and I will send the bill to Mr. Dickson and he will 
 sign it and take it up to you and the Interest I will de- 
 pend on you doing this much for me as I am in Bed and 
 can do nothing for myself I did not sleep a wink last 
 night just thinking about it for fear of you not been 
 able to do it for me I was glad to hear of you getting 
 married and getting such a fine girl as you have got I
 
 236 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 seen her often coming out of her father's church the 
 more she does not know me I wish you all sorts of happi- 
 ness. I hope she will never know to do what I have 
 to do. 
 
 " Respectfully yours, 
 
 " LIZA ANNE O'BREEN." 
 
 " You may consider the bill renewed, Jackson," said 
 the manager, handing back the letter. " My heart isn't 
 hard enough to resist that appeal. Where does she live, 
 by the way ? " 
 
 " About four miles out, sir," answered Jackson. 
 
 " So far? " queried the manager. " Your little affair 
 of the heart seems to have traveled pretty widely. Liza 
 Ann has got it quite pat." 
 
 Mr. Jackson turned up his cuffs with a rather gloomy 
 air. 
 
 " My little affair of the heart, as you call it, sir, is 
 off," he said at length. 
 
 " Good gracious, why? " exclaimed the manager with 
 outward surprise and inward dismay. 
 
 " I don't think I have any chance," responded Jack- 
 son, shaking his head disconsolately. 
 
 '* Why, whatever put that in your head, my dear fel- 
 low? " demanded the manager. " You were as thick as 
 thieves last night when you called here." 
 
 " Yes, but what about later on," asked Jackson a lit- 
 tle resentfully. " You know what I mean quite well, 
 sir." 
 
 " But, surely, my dear boy," protested the manager, 
 " you don't mind an old fellow like me ? " 
 
 " It's all right, sir," put in Jackson a little ma- 
 liciously, " you didn't look so devilish old when you were 
 standing with your arm round her last night. I don't 
 really mean anything, sir," went on Jackson, " for of 
 course you're far too old for her " the manager was 
 divided between melancholy and humor at the pang
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 237 
 
 his junior's words caused him " but you saw what I 
 got when I tried it. My cheek is warm yet." And Mr. 
 Jackson put his hand to his face. 
 
 " Well now, Jackson, my lad," said the manager a 
 little pontifically, " you won't mind an old campaigner 
 like myself pointing out to you that you made rather an 
 error of tactics last night. Your little caress was un- 
 doubtedly ill-timed. The proper moment to offer it was 
 not when you were raising the young lady up, but when 
 you were letting her down again. And there are two 
 reasons why that is so. First of all Miss Nora was des- 
 perately anxious about her father, and the successful 
 interruption of his speech had become a matter only of 
 seconds. In the next place you ought to have remem- 
 bered that until after she had blown down the gas-pipe 
 from those healthy young lungs of hers there would be 
 no diminution in the volume of light, and that Amaryllis, 
 just as much nowadays as in the times of Mr. Milton, 
 prefers to be sported with in the shade." 
 
 " All the same, sir," threw in Jackson, " she let you 
 put your arm round her before the light went out." 
 
 " I know, I know," said the manager patiently ; " but 
 you don't understand. That was on account of my age. 
 It is one of the melancholy privileges of the middle-aged, 
 my dear Jackson, to be able to slip one's arm round a 
 pretty young girl without her considering it a hug at all. 
 It simply doesn't count. You might do it in broad 
 daylight and she wouldn't care a button. But it's quite 
 different in your case. You are a young man and a 
 possible suitor, and technically any properly brought up 
 young maiden of a certain grade of society is supposed 
 to be horrified if you attempt to hug her. Of course it's 
 a convention. But in a highly civilized society such as 
 ours conventions are necessary. We are all subject to 
 them, but young girls particularly so. They drink 
 them in with their mother's milk. How far the said 
 conventions conform to natural instincts I cannot say.
 
 238 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 To the lay mind these things are puzzling. For exam- 
 ple, if you blundered into a girl's bedroom when she had 
 her blouse off she'd probably go into hysterics ; but the 
 same girl will undress herself at least equally naked to 
 go to a dance that night and not turn a hair. What 
 exactly are the natural feelings of a young girl about 
 being hugged by a young man, you and I, Mr. Jackson, 
 will never find out I don't suppose, at this stage of 
 the world's history, the girl could tell you herself; but 
 the one safe and indisputable rule in these days of our 
 civilization is that if you are really anxious to kiss a 
 girl you have a much better chance in the dark." 
 
 At this point in his little address the manager sud- 
 denly stopped short. There had flashed on his memory 
 a certain half-passionate scene and a few faltered words. 
 He did not speak for a moment or two, and when he re- 
 sumed it was in a much less artificial tone. 
 
 " I don't know, Jackson, my boy, whether you'll 
 marry Miss Nora, or whether you'll marry anybody; 
 but it's my duty to point out one great disadvantage of 
 bachelorhood prolonged too late. It leads to coarse- 
 ness and a habit of cheap cynicism. You may have ob- 
 served it in my case ; at any rate I have observed it in 
 myself. Put what I have just said out of your mind. 
 If there is a grain of truth in it, at least it does not ap- 
 ply to Miss Nora. In the first place I am inclined to 
 believe that there's a good deal more of Artemis than of 
 Aphrodite in her composition (I suppose you haven't 
 read much classical mythology; far better not, it's a 
 waste of time for a bank man, but I can't well be more 
 explicit) and in the next place she's much too loyal 
 and single-minded to give her caresses except where she 
 has given her heart. I'll tell you my frank opinion of 
 Miss Nora. I think she's one of the finest girls I have 
 ever met, and that the man who gets her will be the luck- 
 iest man in Ireland. There now ; that's the plain truth, 
 an article very hard to obtain from a man over thirty-
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 239 
 
 five, especially if he's been managing a bank for any 
 length of time." 
 
 " I know that what you say about Nora is true, sir," 
 answered Jackson with sincerity. He played with his 
 pen for a second or two. " The truth is, sir," he said a 
 little reluctantly, " although I think an awful lot of her, 
 I find it very hard lately to look at her in that way I 
 mean in the way of being spoony. She's the very devil 
 to chaff, sir; I wish you'd seen the ass she made of 
 young de Bullevant on the sandhills that day. I don't 
 mind a fig about that, of course ; she can make as big a 
 fool of him as she likes ; but she made nearly as big a 
 fool of me in the end; and laughed just as much at me 
 as at him. I don't think there's very much spooniness 
 in Nora, at any rate for me. It's all right what you 
 said about kissing her in the dark, but if she'd had any 
 fancy for me she wouldn't have near blackened my eye." 
 
 ** * Perhaps it was right to dissemble your love, 
 But why did you kick me downstairs? ' " 
 
 quoted the manager. " Is that it, eh ? All the same I 
 fancy that in the matter of what you call spooniness 
 Miss Nora is just the same as all other daughters of 
 Eve." The manager's thought glanced back to the 
 night before, but he choked down the misgiving ruth- 
 lessly. 
 
 " Then there's another thing, sir," said Jackson. 
 " When I was a bit soft on her at first I never thought 
 of the money side of things at all ; but when the talk of 
 the fortune showed me what an advantage it would be 
 for a man in my position to marry money, it put me in 
 mind too of how hard it would be for me to marry with- 
 out it. Mind you I'm not mean, sir; but I can't help 
 seeing that now." 
 
 " I don't think you're mean at all, my dear Jackson," 
 said the manager. " It's a case of common sense, the
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 greatest marriage-marrer in the world. But suspend 
 your judgment till you've heard my little plan. 
 Who the devil's this, Jackson ? " 
 
 A little bright-eyed woman pushed briskly through 
 the swing doors, and marched to the manager's desk with 
 an air of decision, nodding to Mr. Jackson as she passed 
 him. 
 
 " Mr. Wildridge, I believe ? " she said in a rather ex- 
 aggeratedly business manner. " Good morning. I am 
 Mrs. Woodburn. Mr. Jackson knows me. I wish to 
 see you on a private matter." 
 
 " With pleasure," said the manager, bowing. 
 " Would you mind passing through the door to the 
 left?" He raised an interrogatory eyebrow to Jack- 
 son as he slipped off his stool. 
 
 " Mrs. Woodburn," whispered the cashier cautiously. 
 " Mother of that pretty little Miss Gertie. Supposed 
 to have a good income from money her husband left her ; 
 but nobody knows how it's invested. Does her banking 
 in Belfast. Decent little body ; fancies she's a devil of 
 a business woman; and doesn't know near as much as 
 she thinks." 
 
 The manager nodded comprehension, and passed into 
 his private office. 
 
 " Now, Mr. Wildridge," began Mrs. Woodburn at 
 once, " I won't detain you. You're a busy man ; I'm a 
 busy woman. My errand is this : A woolen manufac- 
 tory is about to be started here ; doubtless you've heard 
 of it. Well, the town will boom. Many more people 
 will come to live in it. There will be a great demand 
 for houses. I intend to take a plot of ground and build 
 to my own plans of course two semi-detached villas 
 costing about eight hundred pounds, and I desire to bor- 
 row the money here." 
 
 " All of it ? " queried the manager. 
 
 " All of it," answered Mrs. Woodburn with decision. 
 " My late husband, who was no business man, sank all
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 his money in an annuity for my benefit, I sometimes 
 think out of ignorance of my capacity. Excuse me 
 now ; I know quite well what is required. You will need 
 security. Very good, I will give you the lease of the 
 ground on which the new property will be built. That 
 should be quite satisfactory, I think? " 
 
 " But " began the manager. 
 
 " Now please don't waste any time, Mr. Wildridge," 
 said Mrs. Woodburn. " I know it is usual for banks to 
 pretend a certain amount of hesitation in lending money. 
 But kindly spare me that. I am a business woman. 
 The houses will be quite good value for eight hundred 
 pounds. Mr. Keffey, our local builder, is to put them 
 up according to my directions, and he says they will cost 
 at least that amount. I am sure you won't question his 
 integrity." 
 
 " Certainly not, my dear madam," said the manager 
 smiling, " but " 
 
 " Very well," interrupted Mrs. Woodburn with 
 asperity, " apart from the situation and there would 
 be a most delightful sea-view from the top bedroom win- 
 dows you would have as security the eight hundred 
 pounds' worth of building material of which they would 
 be constructed." 
 
 " Oh, well you know, Mrs. Woodburn " the man- 
 ager smiled even more urbanely " you must allow some 
 little amount for Mr. Keffey's profit." 
 
 " That would be very little indeed," interposed Mrs. 
 Woodburn. " The poor man's very hard up at pres- 
 ent, and would do the work for me for nearly nothing. 
 I am giving the job to him almost as a charity." 
 
 The manager's sense of humor tempted him to dally 
 a little with the situation. 
 
 " I am afraid the least a builder would expect to make 
 would be ten per cent, on the total cost of the buildings," 
 he said. " Mr. Keffey would hardly work for less than 
 hat."
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 Mrs. Woodburn drew herself up sharply, and glared 
 at the manager in indignant astonishment. 
 
 " Do you mean to tell me, Mr. Wildridge, the the 
 cheating little wretch would have the effrontery to 
 charge me ten per cent? Ten per cent.! Why the 
 most the Government gives on money is two and a half, 
 and even at that the price of their stock has gone down. 
 The little swindler. I will go straight down to him this 
 minute and tell him what I think of him. Of course you 
 won't mind my quoting you as my authority." 
 
 " But Mrs. Woodburn, Mrs. Woodburn, wait a mo- 
 ment," exclaimed the manager, hastily putting himself 
 between her and the door. In the intervals of internal 
 self-blasphemy he sought wildly for a colorable explana- 
 tion. " Er of course he would have to pay his work- 
 men out of that, which would leave him practically noth- 
 ing for himself practically nothing." 
 
 " I see," said Mrs. Woodburn sagely, seating herself 
 again. " You relieve my mind. I was afraid he meant 
 to get the better of me " 
 
 " I don't think any one will do that," murmured the 
 manager diplomatically. " I know I shouldn't like to 
 attempt it." 
 
 " I think it would be difficult, Mr. Wildridge," said 
 Mrs. Woodburn with a gratified smile. " Yes, I really 
 think it would. But now, what is the trouble about the 
 security? You as good as admit that my houses would 
 be good security for eight hundred pounds. Why do 
 you demur to taking it ? " Mrs. Woodburn drummed 
 her fingers on the table and looked at the manager ex- 
 pectantly. 
 
 " I will explain," said the manager. " Just pardon 
 me a moment while I arrange my thoughts. Really, 
 madam, you are so keen that I positively feel quite 
 nervous before you. It's this way," continued the man- 
 ager. " If you wished to sell the houses, what with your 
 undoubted business capacity and your experience in
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 243 
 
 building house property you would be able to secure the 
 value of them, possibly indeed even more. No one would 
 venture to attempt getting the better of you" Mrs. 
 Woodburn's features sensibly relaxed, and she leaned 
 back in her chair, nodding slightly. 
 
 " But in the unlikely, the very unlikely contingency of 
 the Bank's having to realize their security it is a deli- 
 cate subject, but as you know, Mrs. Woodburn, the hand 
 of Death may not always spare the most valuable mem- 
 ber of your household. Of course I am not saying any- 
 thing derogatory to your late husband, but " 
 
 The manager looked expressively at his customer. 
 
 " Please do not apologize, Mr. Wildridge," said Mrs. 
 Woodburn. " Perhaps it was as well for my dear girl 
 that it was my husband and not I that was taken away. 
 Poor David was a timid man in money matters." 
 
 " Well then, Mrs. Woodburn, suppose, as I say, that 
 the Bank had to realize the security: they would be 
 obliged to leave the matter in my hands. As you know, 
 I have practically no experience in such affairs; every 
 one would be quite aware of that, and as a result any 
 prospective buyer would want a thief's penny of the 
 bargain. The property would be sacrificed, my dear 
 madam, sacrificed. I see you agree with me," continued 
 the manager hurriedly. " Of course you observe the 
 point at once. Now I would suggest that you follow the 
 usual custom in such cases, which is, as you are aware, to 
 support the deeds with a Letter of Guarantee, say of 
 some well-to-do relative no doubt you have many such 
 who would be only too delighted. To you I need hardly 
 explain the nature of a Letter of Guarantee. IL simply 
 means that some one makes himself or herself responsible 
 for the amount of your debit here." 
 
 " I quite understand," said Mrs. Woodburn. 
 " There will be no difficulty about that. My daughter 
 will do so. I may tell you, Mr. Wildridge, that on her 
 coming of age she becomes entitled to property bringing
 
 244 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 in two hundred per annum. It was left to her by her 
 uncle Samuel a dear man who was ver y fond of me. 
 He died a bachelor, Mr. Wildridge," said Mrs. Wood- 
 burn significantly. " A very fine man." 
 
 " I yield to no one, Mrs. Woodburn, in my admiration 
 of bachelor uncles," said the manager feelingly. " May 
 I ask if your daughter will soon be of age ? " 
 
 " In about two years," answered her mother ; " but of 
 course that does not affect the case." 
 
 " I am afraid it wouldn't be possible," said the man- 
 ager with deprecation, " for your daughter to make 
 herself legally responsible for the debt until she came 
 of age." 
 
 Mrs. Woodburn again sat up sharply in her chair. 
 
 " I am really becoming annoyed with you, Mr. Wild- 
 ridge," she said indignantly. " You keep raising ob- 
 jection after objection. I think you forget that there 
 is another bank in the town. You must be quite well 
 aware that if my daughter passes her word she will make 
 it good whether she is of age or not. Kindly tell me 
 definitely, are you willing to lend me the money ? " 
 
 " My dear madam," said the manager, " I need hardly 
 tell you how delighted the Bank would be to oblige you 
 in any way. But the expenditure of eight hundred 
 pounds is a serious matter, and it's well to look at it 
 from all points of view. Now I was greatly struck by 
 the very wise suggestion you made at the beginning of 
 our interview that the future of house property in 
 Portnamuck would almost entirely depend on the success 
 or non-success of the woolen manufactory. It was a 
 very prudent and farseeing view to take very. Of 
 course, as I have stated, should you decide to go on with 
 the building at once, the Bank would no doubt facilitate 
 you in every er reasonable way. But I think 
 there is a great deal to be said for your original deter^ 
 mination to defer building until you see how the manu- 
 facturing project shapes. Then in the event of its not 
 proving a success ="
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 45 
 
 " In your opinion it won't succeed ? " queried Mrs. 
 Woodburn. 
 
 " Oh, not at all," said the manager hastily. (" Blast 
 the woman," he groaned to himself, " one way or another 
 she'll ruin me!") "On the contrary it will probably 
 do well. But you are very wise in deciding to wait till 
 success is assured. I don't wish to blarney you, Mrs. 
 Woodburn, but candidly you show a degree of judgment 
 that I wish I could always emulate." 
 
 " How long do you think it would be advisable to wait, 
 Mr. Wildridge ? " asked Mrs. Woodburn. She had 
 abated nothing of her curt business manner, but the 
 manager read gratification in every lineament of her 
 face. 
 
 " I would suggest about yes, about two years," 
 said the manager. " That will allow a year for building 
 the factory, and a year to give it a fair trial. And in 
 the meantime you will probably find it much more con- 
 venient to do your banking business here than in Belfast. 
 I would suggest that you transfer your account to us. 
 You are practically a client of the Bank as it is. Oh, 
 certainly, Mrs. Woodburn. By all means think it over. 
 I have seen too much of your business acuteness to at- 
 tempt to rush you in any way. Good day, Mrs. Wood- 
 burn, good day." The manager opened the door for 
 her. " Don't be surprised if I call down for your ad- 
 vice the first time I encounter a knotty problem. Good 
 day." 
 
 " I wonder now," said the manager to the closed door, 
 " was the late Mr. Woodburn as ignorant of his wife's 
 business capacity as she thinks ? But I must tell Jack- 
 son about the little daughter's two hundred a year." 
 Then he paused in thought, with wrinkled brows. 
 " Begad, after all, I won't," he murmured, and re- 
 entered the office slowly.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 IN the office the manager found Michael Brannegan, 
 Mr. Finnegan, and the seedsman in possession ; and 
 the greater part of his morning was consumed in 
 making arrangements for receiving applications for 
 shares, Mr. Finnegan proving little less dilatory than 
 on the platform. 
 
 He found the three very optimistic about the success 
 of the flotation, the natural melancholy of the seedsman 
 being temporarily dispersed by a comfortable sense that 
 Mr. Normanby's generosity had relieved the promoters 
 from the weight of the responsibility. In the matter of 
 taking shares, however, they proved decidedly cautious. 
 Mr. Finnegan, while professing every confidence in the 
 future of the company, said that in the interests of his 
 wife, Mrs. Finnegan, he thought it better not to involve 
 himself too deeply until the project was, so to speak, out 
 of the deep waters of danger into the shallows of pros- 
 perity. In the meantime he would apply for one hun- 
 dred shares. Michael, for the first time, probably, in 
 his life, followed Mr. Finnegan; and the seedsman 
 thought that for a man in his position, with his business 
 exposed to all the vicissitudes of an abominable climate, 
 fifty shares would be ample. To the manager's sugges- 
 tion that it would be better to give the public more of a 
 lead Michael was as usual terse. 
 
 " If the public comes in," said Michael, " and the thing 
 is going to do, we can come in when we like and allot our- 
 selves what we like. If they won't take the risk we'll be 
 d d if we take it. D'ye see now, Mr. Manager ? " 
 
 " And if the public evince any, shall I say trepidation, 
 246
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 about taking shares, no doubt Mr. Normanby will step 
 still further, as it were, into the breach, being now what," 
 said Mr. Finnegan, " I might venture to call a pluto- 
 crat." 
 
 "I wish to goodness the company could float and 
 burst," said Mr. Jackson fervently after they had gone, 
 " if it was only to stick that old blathering humbug. If 
 he just knew the extent of poor old Mr. Normanby 's 
 plutocracy he'd turn a few shades yellower than he is. 
 But I say, sir, have you thought out anything about 
 what we'll do ? I hadn't an hour's sleep last night over 
 it. Bad luck to it anyway. Here we've got the ac- 
 count after the devil's own trouble ; and the show's going 
 to be a frost. Nothing in this world turns out as well 
 as you expect." 
 
 " And nothing turns out as badly as you expect," 
 said the manager. " Keep up your heart, Jackson, my 
 lad ; we'll win through yet. It's not as bad yet as " 
 the manager reflected, " as a bad marriage," he con- 
 cluded with a whimsical grimace for his own benefit. 
 " Leave the whole job in my hands. If I don't save the 
 situation, float the company, and redeem Mr. Norman- 
 by's credit, I'll I'll marry his daughter," he con- 
 cluded inaudibly. 
 
 He slipped off his stool suddenly, and took a few rapid 
 turns up and down the office floor. 
 
 " And begad that's the solution of my difficulty," he 
 reflected with elation. " Now, my dear conscience, I 
 refuse to hear another word from you. I'm throwing 
 you an ample sop. You may consider the debate closed. 
 And, Anthony, my boy, put your wits to work. Free- 
 dom is the goal, freedom, and your books, and your 
 scribbling, and an easy life and a self-indulgent one, 
 eh? Of all the blasted consciences!" declared the 
 manager to himself in disgusted appeal, " I tell you I've 
 made up my mind, and I'll hear no more. And the van- 
 ity of you, too. A girl of eighteen, and you twenty
 
 248 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 years older. If she thought about you at all it was to 
 laugh at you for an old ass. Not another word now ! 
 
 " Jackson," he said, climbing upon his stool again, 
 " send a note to Miss Nora that we'll meet her at the 
 Rectory gate to-night at half-past seven. I'll turn up 
 there, and you can come round from your diggings. 
 And you might put in that I that we can see a way 
 through the difficulty. No use letting her worry that 
 pretty face of hers into wrinkles. Now to work. That 
 old scoundrel, Finnegan, has kept me back two hours." 
 
 The manager's detachment from himself enabled him 
 to comment somewhat acidly on the fact that he was 
 within a hundred yards or so of the Rectory gate a 
 quarter of an hour before the time appointed; and he 
 was further annoyed to observe that his heart began to 
 beat a little more quickly when he saw Miss Normanby 
 standing just inside her own grounds. 
 
 " It's all very fine, Anthony," he ventured ; " but 
 there are elements of awkwardness about this meeting. 
 We're all right if she doesn't blush." 
 
 She did not blush. There was a certain soft bright- 
 ness in her eyes that he had never noticed before ; but he 
 refused to consider anything but the esthetic side of 
 that matter, and found it sufficiently absorbing. 
 
 " Hallo, Nora," he said ; and if the tone was fatherly 
 it was that of an affectionate parent. 
 
 " Hallo," returned Miss Nora softly. The manager 
 did not take her hand, nor did she seem to expect it. 
 Without words spoken the pair began to walk slowly up 
 the path together ; and when Nora slipped her arm into 
 his in a matter-of-fact way the manager's conscience 
 might as well have been in Kamchatka. 
 
 " I'm glad you came early," said Nora ; " I hoped you 
 would. Let's go on into the house. I'll send down the 
 maid to meet Jacks." 
 
 " But what about your father ? " asked the manager, 
 checking his step.
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 249 
 
 " Poor Dad's in bed. He caught more cold at the 
 meeting, and his old pipes are as bad as ever. It won't 
 be necessary to tell him, will it? " she asked anxiously. 
 " I know you've got a plan, and I don't want you to tell 
 me till you're ready ; but I do hope it doesn't mean that 
 we've to tell Dad yet a bit." 
 
 " It doesn't then," said the manager. " We'll have 
 to tell him some time. I can't save him from the knowl- 
 edge that the fortune is a myth ; but I think I can save 
 him from humiliation over his offer last night, and that's 
 something." 
 
 " It's everything," affirmed Miss Nora. " Dad 
 doesn't care a fig about money except to give it to other 
 people ; and if we have to want they'll jolly well have to 
 want too." 
 
 " He won't bother in the meantime about the money 
 not turning up ? " queried the manager. " That would 
 be awkward, you know." 
 
 " Dad won't bother," said Miss Nora. " I told him I 
 was looking after it; and he trusts me just the way I 
 trust you." 
 
 There was not a trace of sentiment in the manner she 
 said it; just the quiet confidence that the words implied. 
 The manager smote his conscience violently over the 
 head, and set down the speech to the credit of his status 
 as a banker. 
 
 When he went into the drawing-room his glance 
 traveled rapidly over the bookcase, and from that to a 
 volume lying on the table. 
 
 " Have you been reading? " he asked. Then, as she 
 nodded, " I see you use a bookmark." 
 
 " That's Dad," said Miss Nora. " He hates to see a 
 leaf turned down, and he's trained me till I'm nearly as 
 faddy as himself." 
 
 The manager's bosom glowed. " May I look at the 
 book? " he asked. " You're sure you don't mind? " he 
 added, noticing an involuntary movement of refusal.
 
 250 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 " No," said Miss Nora ; " I don't mind your seeing. 
 It's * Humphrey Clinker ' are you shocked ? " 
 
 " Not a shock," said the manager. " I'd been far 
 more shocked if I'd found you reading a sentimental 
 novel." 
 
 " That's all right," said Nora with relief. " I was 
 sure you weren't that kind of person ; but there's always 
 a risk. Look here," she burst out frankly, " I'd better 
 get it all off my chest at once, and then you'll know the 
 best and worst of me. I've read Shakespeare, and a bit 
 of Ben Jonson, and some Beaumont and Fletcher, and a 
 little Smollett, and nearly all Fielding, and and dear 
 knows what. I've read lots of other books of course; 
 but I mean I've read those as well. Dad knows, mind. 
 He said he didn't think it would do me a bit of harm; 
 and I don't think it has either. And look here " Miss 
 Nora turned pink and finished with a rush " if I've 
 read all those books I'm nineteen and nobody's ever 
 kissed me yet. You know " the pink turned to furi- 
 ous scarlet " I told you last night." 
 
 " I don't care a d n if I was fifty," cried the man- 
 ager to himself. " Nora," he said aloud, and stepped 
 towards her. 
 
 As he spoke there was a tap at the door, and Mr. 
 Jackson entered the room. As he turned sharply to- 
 wards the sound the manager's eye caught a fleeting 
 glimpse of the three of them mirrored in a pier-glass on 
 the wall. In a lightning-flash of disillusionment he rec- 
 ognized a budding youth and maiden, and a man verging 
 on middle age. Before Jackson had finished his greet- 
 ing common sense had resumed its cold sway over the 
 manager's brain. 
 
 " Now, children," he said briskly, " here we are all 
 together. Let's sit down and I'll unfold my Machiavel- 
 lian schemes." He noticed Mr. Jackson's stare at the 
 word, but determinedly looked away from Miss Nora. 
 " First of all, Nora, we must get your father out of the
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 251 
 
 hole he has unwittingly got himself into. Now, here's 
 the position. The capital of the company is fixed at 
 twenty thousand pounds. We are to go to allotment 
 four weeks hence you can explain this later to Miss 
 Nora, Jackson but only if the whole sum has been 
 subscribed for. That is the decision of the directors. 
 Now of that twenty thousand Mr. Normanby has prom- 
 ised to take up ten thousand, and as things have turned 
 out he will not be able to do that." 
 
 " He won't be able to take any of it, Mr. Wildridge," 
 said Miss Nora. " There's no use making any bones 
 about it ; we're as poor as Job's turkey." 
 
 " All right, Nora," said the manager, " we'll assume 
 that the financial position of that estimable fowl was 
 pretty bad, and that your father will take no shares. 
 But he has possibilities too. Am I right in saying that 
 the ground the old stocking factory stands on is your 
 father's, but that Mr. de Bullevant won't give him a 
 proper deed of it? " 
 
 " That's quite right," answered Nora ; " old de Bulle- 
 vant's a pig." 
 
 " And Mr. Percy has been paying you some attentions 
 lately?" 
 
 " Yes," said Nora, " since he heard I was going to be 
 rich." 
 
 " Well," said the manager, " while he's still under 
 that pleasant delusion I fancy his father would be much 
 easier approached about a deed. Would you have any 
 scruples of conscience or delicacy about trying it now? 
 I know it would hardly be playing the game in ordinary 
 circumstances, but I think you would be quite justified 
 as the case stands." 
 
 Miss Nora glanced momentarily at Mr. Jackson. 
 " So it was Mr. Wildridge's notion then," she thought. 
 
 " I have a scruple," she said slowly. " Percy's 
 played it very low down on me, not speaking to me for 
 years after we'd romped together as kids, and then
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 coming messing around when he thought I was an heiress. 
 I'd nearly have married him just for the sell he'd have 
 got." 
 
 " That's settled then," said the manager. " If friend 
 Percy has an eye in his head at all the deed is as good as 
 granted. Now with the old walls of the factory and of 
 the workmen's cottages, that bit of ground is worth at 
 least two thousand five hundred pounds as a site for the 
 new factory ; and they've got to buy it I'll see to that. 
 And if the worst comes to the worst your father can 
 take it out in shares." 
 
 " But what about all the rest he has promised, sir? " 
 asked Mr. Jackson, who began to feel himself too silent 
 a partner in the proceedings. 
 
 " You dry up, Jacks," said Miss Nora, " and don't be 
 doing the old croaking raven. Go on please, Mr. Wild- 
 ridge." 
 
 " If we suppose the deed granted we have secured 
 solid advantages. In the first place Mr. Percy might 
 marry you, Nora," said the manager, " just to get the 
 property back into the family " Miss Nora made a 
 little face " and in the next, your father would be 
 worth a comfortable sum of money. But I take it that 
 unless we clear him of his promise we have failed." 
 
 " Mr. Wildridge," said Nora, a little unsteadily, " if 
 Dad has to break his public promise it'll it'll kill 
 him, that's all." She turned away her head and groped 
 furtively for her handkerchief. " I'm an awful baby," 
 she said in a muffled voice ; " but don't laugh at me, 
 please." 
 
 " All right, Nora girl," said the manager ; " keep up 
 your pecker. With the help of Mr. Jackson here I'll 
 pull him through. And I'll tell you how it's going to be 
 done. The town of Portnamuck and the neighborhood 
 thereof are going to subscribe every penny of that capi- 
 tal ; and if they aren't ungrateful enough then to resent 
 your father's wishing to take a single share, I've not
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 253 
 
 been living in this world for for a good many 
 years " 
 
 " I don't see where all that money's to come from out 
 of this district," said Jackson, shaking his head, " even 
 if they had it they wouldn't part." 
 
 " Look here, Jacks," cried Miss Nora angrily, " you 
 stop doing the snivelling old Jeremiah or I'll punch your 
 head. All the same, Mr. Wildridge, I don't know how 
 it'll be done." 
 
 " That's just like you, Nora," said Jackson in ag- 
 grieved tones, " you go for me, and then turn round and 
 say the same thing yourself." 
 
 " Don't squabble now, children," said the manager, 
 " I think it can be done. But not without an ally in 
 the enemies' camp. That ally I think I have secured. 
 Do you really trust me, Nora ? " asked the manager 
 suddenly. 
 
 " I trust you," answered Nora ; and the natural man 
 was satisfied with her look, though the conscience sus- 
 tained a jar. 
 
 " Very well," said the manager, " I went round to 
 Denis O'Flaherty this afternoon and told him the whole 
 story." 
 
 " Denis O'Flaherty," cried Mr. Jackson, aghast. 
 " He'll have it all over the town ! " 
 
 " He won't," said the manager to Nora's startled 
 glance. " If I hadn't been sure I know my man I 
 wouldn't have taken the risk. Now Denis and I have 
 gone carefully into the matter, and we've come to the 
 conclusion that the money can be raised. But before I 
 go on, I feel it due to Denis to tell you that out of sheer 
 admiration for a certain young lady in this town he's 
 coming round to the Bank to-morrow to subscribe for 
 one hundred and fifty pounds' worth of shares in spite 
 of what I told him." 
 
 " Denis is a real trump," said Miss Nora, her eyes 
 shining. " But I'm surprised at him though. It's no.
 
 254 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 time since I abused him like a pickpocket in his own 
 forge. And I nearly broke his leg with a stone that day 
 Johnny got on the jamboree." 
 
 " It's not a bit surprising," said the manager. " If I 
 had a head of yellow curls the deposits of the Bank 
 would go up to a million. But we're digressing," he 
 went on hastily. " Now Denis and I are going to try 
 the district in two ways. First of all we're going to 
 work the patriotic dodge, of course in as underground 
 a manner as possible. We're going to approach all the 
 parties in the neighborhood. Nationalists and Union- 
 ists, Sinn Feiners and Orangemen, and to show them 
 that with the foundation of the woolen factory a new 
 era will dawn in Ireland; that poverty will pass away 
 from our island, particularly from the town of Portna- 
 muck and the adjoining parts ; that a gold rain of pros- 
 perity will descend on our beloved country, particularly 
 on the town of Portnamuck and the adjoining parts, and 
 still more especially on those of the inhabitants who have 
 taken up shares in the company; that each particular 
 party will enjoy these benefits to the total exclusion of 
 all the others ; and that the whole miracle will be ac- 
 complished by outsiders who will do all the work and 
 won't expect any of the profits. Stand back from 
 me, children," said the manager, rising to his feet, " I'm 
 going to make a speech. 
 
 " And if this plan fails, do you think we mean to throw 
 up the sponge? Not a bit of it. There is still the 
 trump card to play. We will make use of that out- 
 standing national characteristic which has redeemed our 
 annals from monotony, which has raised us to a unique 
 position among the peoples of the earth; that great 
 principle of mutual mistrust and jealousy which is the 
 root of all progress and morality and civic virtue in our 
 country, which makes men work like like blazes 
 thank you, Nora and believe in themselves, not he- 
 pause they want to do it, but in order to spite their
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 255 
 
 neighbors. Fall on my neck and weep, Nora darlin'," 
 cried the manager, " while the weight of years is tempo- 
 rarily lifted from me. Begad it's a political orator I 
 should have been; I'm lost in a Bank. You'd never 
 think I was such an old ass," said the manager apolo- 
 getically, sitting down again. " But I've been a bit 
 worried to-day and I had to blow off steam. To be se- 
 rious, children, Denis and I are prepared to set the 
 whole neighborhood by the ears to get that money ; and 
 we think we can do it. But, Jackson, my boy, you'll 
 have to put your back into it too ; and, Nora, anything 
 that two blue eyes can accomplish and that's more 
 than you're aware of you must work on every mon- 
 eyed man in the neighborhood under under ninety, by 
 George. Is it a bargain, children?" 
 
 Miss Nora nodded firmly. " It's a bargain. Where 
 Dad's concerned I've no conscience at all." 
 
 " And Nora knows she can depend on me to do my 
 best for her," said Mr. Jackson. " Isn't that so, 
 Nora?" 
 
 " That's right, Jacks," answered Nora warmly. " I 
 know you'll fight for an old pal." 
 
 She stretched out her hand to the cashier. The 
 manager was acutely conscious of the interval before the 
 hands fell apart. 
 
 " There now, you silly fool " he apostrophized the 
 inner Mr. Wildridge " you've been worrying yourself 
 these last twenty-four hours, and probably Jackson's 
 the man after all." But when the inner Anthony re- 
 joined that the manager didn't really believe it, and that 
 all the incident showed was that he was still less de- 
 tached in his attitude to Nora than he had been aware, 
 the manager turned from the subject at once. " At 
 any rate," he said testily to his inconvenient monitor, 
 " Jackson and she are warm enough friends for all to 
 go right if I only keep out of the way." 
 
 " Now, children," said the manager aloud, " there's
 
 256 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 another very important point to be considered. Could 
 we possibly induce the railway company to extend their 
 line to Portnamuck? If we could manage that it would 
 secure not only the success of the flotation, but the 
 success of the woolen factory ; and if we have any sense 
 of decency at all it's up to us to try for both. Come 
 now ; who can do something to bring the railway to the 
 town? " 
 
 " I can," cried Miss Nora, clapping her hands. " I 
 can cadge an invitation up to Belfast to stay with an old 
 uncle mother's brother ; and his eldest son is secre- 
 tary of the railway company, and will do nearly any- 
 thing for me." 
 
 " Is he single, Nora ? " asked the manager. 
 
 " M-m, m-m," Miss Nora nodded. " But there's 
 nothing of that kind in it. He just likes me. He's not 
 young, you know." 
 
 The manager winced. 
 
 " How old is he," he asked, turning the knife in his 
 wound. " As old as I am? " 
 
 " Oh, good gracious, far older," said Nora, wide- 
 eyed ; " why he's quite middle-aged ! " 
 
 " It's a blessing Jackson's here," said the manager to 
 himself, " or the course of my whole future life was 
 settled by that speech. You never can tell what no- 
 tions might come into a middle-aged man's head, Nora," 
 he observed. " But, anyhow, you think you can man- 
 age him ? " 
 
 " I can turn him round my little finger," said Nora 
 confidently. " You leave him to me." 
 
 " That's two you have to fascinate now," said the 
 manager with gravity, " Mr. Percy and the secretary. 
 I don't see, Nora, how you're to keep out of the Breach 
 of Promise Court over this business." 
 
 Miss Nora made her little grimace. 
 
 " The question is, can I leave Dad at present? He's 
 pretty rotten, you know," she said with a serious air.
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 257 
 
 " You'll have to do it, Nora, I'm afraid," said the 
 manager ; " that is if it's possible at all." 
 
 "How long will you be away, Nora?" asked Mr. 
 Jackson. " Sure your old housekeeper could look after 
 him. She's been here all her life." 
 
 " I know, Jacks," said Miss Nora absently ; " but I'd 
 feel horrid about leaving him. If I must, though, I 
 must. Mind, you'll have to coach me up in all sorts of 
 arguments before I go." 
 
 " I suppose arguments will be necessary," admitted 
 the manager. " There are the directors to be thought 
 of ; and they'd hardly let you into a board meeting. As 
 far as the secretary is concerned, if you'll only lay your- 
 self out for him he's yours without any arguments." 
 
 " Oh, I'll lay myself out for him all right," said Nora. 
 " I told you my conscience is away from home. Do 
 you know " a little consciously " I'm thinking of 
 putting up my hair." 
 
 " It's a capital notion," cried the manager with 
 enthusiasm. "And, good Lord, now," he communed 
 with himself, " if I could only get mine to grow, it 
 wouldn't look such a ridiculous business between us 
 then." He thought of the dozen bottles on his dressing- 
 room shelf, and put another dream behind him. 
 
 " I say, Nora," exclaimed Mr. Jackson, " stick it up 
 now, and let's see what you'd look like." 
 
 Miss Nora hesitated. 
 
 " Shall I? " she asked, turning to the manager. 
 
 The manager inhaled the incense of her submissive- 
 ness. 
 
 " Do, Nora girl," he said, and forgot the paternal ac- 
 cent. " I'd love to see you." 
 
 " Wait a minute then," said Miss Nora, rising. " I 
 wouldn't like to do it here." 
 
 A moment later she stood in the doorway, and in that 
 moment the tomboy was no more. The manager marked 
 the straight young figure, the proud little head poised
 
 258 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 with new dignity on the revealed beauty of the slender 
 neck, the golden diadem of curls, and, beneath, the 
 virgin modesty of the clouded eyes. The man and the 
 artist rejoiced within him. 
 
 He dropped on one knee and stretched out his hands 
 to her: 
 
 " ' I supplicate thee, O queen,' " he quoted, " ' whether 
 thou art a goddess or a mortal! If indeed thou art a 
 goddess of them that keep the wide heaven, to Artemis, 
 then, the daughter of great Zeus, I mainly liken thee, for 
 beauty and stature and shapeliness. But if thou art 
 one of the daughters of men who dwell on earth, thrice 
 blessed ' " the manager's brain ran on half a dozen 
 lines, and in a flash he recovered himself " is the secre- 
 tary on whom thou shalt prevail with thy beauty, and 
 who shall lead the Ulidian Railway to the town of Port- 
 namuck." 
 
 " It's a bad omen," said Miss Nora, with a little 
 twinkle ; " for if you remember, Nausicaa had to return 
 home in a cart. But will I do ? " 
 
 " Do? " exclaimed the manager, stepping to meet her. 
 " The secretary is delivered into your hands. But is it 
 secure," he asked, looking dubiously at the piled-up 
 curls. 
 
 " Feel," said Nora, bowing her head. 
 
 The manager laid a hand on the clustering curls, and 
 felt shy for the first time for fifteen years. 
 
 " It seems all right, Nora," he said, a little uncer- 
 tainly. 
 
 " Let me feel, Nora," said Mr. Jackson. 
 
 Miss Nora stepped back. 
 
 " Listen," she said ; " I think I hear Dad." She ran 
 to the door and called softly, " Daddy, Dad-dee ! " 
 
 And at the childish words and the childish accent a 
 revulsion of feeling came over the manager. 
 
 " It's not Dad," said Miss Nora, closing the door and 
 coming back into the room.
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 259 
 
 " Listen, Nora lassie," said the manager. " Be 
 hanged to the secretary. Tumble all those curls down, 
 and be a child again. There's care, and worry, and dis- 
 illusion, and heavy hearts for big girls when they grow 
 up. Don't grow up yet awhile." 
 
 " It's too late," said Miss Nora shaking her head 
 softly. " I guess I'm grown up now. 
 
 " It was just a lovely compliment you paid me," she 
 whispered to the manager as they passed through the 
 hall. " But " a little sparkle of mischief gleamed 
 momentarily in her eyes " I've read some of Sien- 
 kiewicz too." 
 
 " I'll be hanged," said the manager to himself as he 
 stalked home moodily beside Mr. Jackson, who respected 
 his silence as being doubtless due to profound thought 
 about the woolen factory. " I'll be hanged if I see why 
 a man should be burdened with a Conscience like mine. 
 And then I've Common Sense to contend with, that's 
 worth a dozen consciences. But where does the natural 
 Anthony come in? Is he not to be considered? For 
 she's a darling girl. And did you hear her capping my 
 tag of Homer and spotting my little plagiarism ? 
 Oh, Anthony, Anthony 
 
 " Good Lord," he thought suddenly, " I must hurry 
 home at once. What a heavenly frame of mind I'm in 
 for translating the first Ode of the Fourth Book. 
 Good night, Jackson, my boy." 
 
 The manager ran up the steps to his hall door, in- 
 serted his latchkey in the lock, drew it out, wrestled with 
 himself violently for a few seconds, and ran down the 
 steps again. 
 
 " Jackson," he called, " Jackson." 
 
 " Yes, sir," answered the cashier, turning back. 
 
 " Just a moment," said the manager hurriedly. " I 
 clean forgot to tell you that Mrs. Woodburn let out this 
 morning that that pretty little daughter of hers comes
 
 260 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 into two hundred a year when she's of age. Good 
 night." 
 
 " By Jove," remarked Jackson thoughtfully as he 
 walked up the street. 
 
 The manager closed the hall door and stood for a 
 moment in deep meditation. Then he suddenly dashed 
 his hat on the floor, kicked it round the hall several 
 times, and after restoring its shape and dusting it a little 
 made his way slowly up the stairs.
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 NOW, Jackson, my lad," said the manager 
 next morning, " we've got a big task before 
 us these next few weeks, and we must con- 
 centrate on it. We've pledged our honor to Miss Nora 
 that we'll get her father out of the mess he's been 
 plunged into by that little Spanish scoundrel, and we 
 must redeem that pledge. I'll depend on you to put 
 your back into the job. Of course there is the interest 
 of the Bank in the success of the company to be con- 
 sidered ; but I'll forgive you if you put Miss Nora first." 
 
 " I think we both put Nora first," said Mr. Jackson. 
 
 The manager looked covertly at his cashier, but Mr. 
 Jackson's expression was normal. 
 
 "Anyhow," thought the manager, " a little jealousy 
 will spur him up to go in for her more ardently ; and 
 that, in the circumstances," his thoughts ran on a little 
 forlornly, " is, I suppose, the best thing that could 
 happen." 
 
 " Well," he said aloud, " with a view to the business 
 in hand I think it would be better if we refrained from 
 discussing her at all, except in relation to the woolen 
 factory. I know I myself am a little given to digression 
 when I get on a subject like that; and concentration is 
 the word for the present." 
 
 " All right, sir," said the cashier nonchalantly ; " if 
 you can do without talking about her, I can." 
 
 Again the manager looked at Mr. Jackson, this time 
 more intently, but the cashier's answering glance was 
 merely pleasant. 
 
 "You can depend upon it, sir," he said with frank 
 heartiness. " I'll do my very best for Nora." 
 
 261
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 " I know you will," answered the manager warmly. 
 " Well, then ; Denis scoured the town last night, and 
 to-day he's going to dodge up and down in the market 
 every spare moment he has ; and at half-past four 
 we'll be done by then he's coming round to bring his 
 report. Remind me to fetch a decanter of whisky down 
 to the private room after we close. Throw open the 
 doors now, Jackson ; and, by the way, don't be too cor- 
 dial to any country customer that wishes to subscribe 
 for shares, or he'll think we want to push the company, 
 and that would be fatal." 
 
 Before closing hour about fifteen hundred shares had 
 been subscribed for. The manager was in high feather. 
 
 " Come, Jackson," he said gaily as he banged the safe 
 door ; " that wasn't a bad day's work for a beginning. 
 Of course it's market-day; but even so, it wasn't bad. 
 Our friend Hephaestus " 
 
 " Who ? " demanded Mr. Jackson, wrinkling his 
 brows. 
 
 " Oh, Denis, I mean," said the manager. " Do you 
 know, Jackson " he looked seriously at his cashier 
 " I envy you the space you must have in your brain for 
 merely bank affairs. It will be very valuable to you 
 later on. But, as I was saying, Denis must have been 
 getting in good work. And, by gad, here's the great 
 man himself. Come in, Denis ; go right into the private 
 room there. Now, take that in your hand before you 
 say a word." 
 
 The blacksmith wiped his mouth in anticipation as he 
 reached for the glass. 
 
 Here's your very good health, sir," he said heartily, 
 and good luck to the woolen factory. It's a pity but 
 it was a distillery we were startin', Mr. Wildridge," he 
 said, setting down the glass, " if we could only make 
 stuff like that. But I suppose we need clothes too." 
 He shook his head with an air of mild regret. 
 
 " Well now, Denis," said the manager, " what luck ? " 
 
 H 
 U
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 263 
 
 " I'll tell you the whole story," said the blacksmith, 
 settling himself back in his chair and extracting a foul 
 little clay from his trousers pocket, where, through some 
 gift of vitality the secret of which was only known to 
 itself, it lived in perfect harmony with a handful of nails, 
 a strap and buckle, and a metal tobacco-box. 
 
 " You don't mind the smell, Mr. Wildridge, I hope ? " 
 he asked, pausing with a match suspended above his 
 trousers leg. 
 
 " Not a bit," returned the manager. " Would you 
 care for a cigar, Denis ? " 
 
 " No, thank you, sir," answered the blacksmith. " I 
 like a smoke, an' I like a chew, but I don't care for them 
 both at the one time." 
 
 He sucked the flame noisily into his pipe half a dozen 
 times, pressed the few loose red strands of tobacco firmly 
 down with his forefinger, and expelling a mighty volume 
 of smoke, cast the match, on the floor and ground it into 
 the carpet. 
 
 " Well, now," said the blacksmith, *' the first man I 
 tackled last night after I left ye was Barney Ryan. 
 Maybe ye're not aware of it, but Barney is the hottest 
 Sinn Feiner in the district, an' ye know what that means. 
 Anything that's made in Ireland is good, whether it is 
 or not ; and all the rest is English rubbish, even if it was 
 made in Germany. So I tipped the wink strong to Bar- 
 ney that this was an Irish company through an' through. 
 The divil a man, I told him, is to be employed in it that 
 can't produce a birth certificate that he was born in the 
 Four Provinces, unless he can prove that his father and 
 mother was driv out of the country by the landlords. 
 What he'll say later on when he finds out that we're en- 
 gaging a man from Bradford to manage the place, Lord 
 alone knows. But if him an' his party has their shares 
 taken by that time it'll be the less matter. However, I 
 told him all the bill-heads is to be printed in the Irish 
 character, an' ' Deanta in Eirinn ' stamped on every
 
 264 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 blanket we turn out ; an' he's well satisfied, an' away 
 round the whole party to beat them up. 
 
 " They're a queer crowd the Sinn Feiners," observed 
 the blacksmith reflectively. " There's Barney, now, as 
 hot a one as you'll get, an' not a crumb of tobacco he'll 
 let into his pipe unless it's some stuff grew by a Unionist 
 man down in the south. So long as a thing is made in 
 Ireland they don't care which party makes it, instead of 
 supporting a good Nationalist as they ought to. Divil 
 a bit of patriotism is in them at all. But in the mean- 
 time Barney will be useful to us. 
 
 " And I tell you what he'll do as well. He'll give us 
 a lift with Father Kelly. Ye haven't come across 
 Father Kelly yet, Mr. Wildridge, have ye? " 
 
 " Not yet, Denis," said the manager. 
 
 " Well, you've a pleasure before ye," said the black- 
 smith ; " for he's a decent man an' a good priest ; an' 
 as fine crack as there is from here to Cork. Ye'll know 
 him by his saying ' Good mornin' ' to you in Irish. 
 * Goide mar ihd tu? ' he'll say to you, that's ' How are 
 ye doin' yourself? ' an' if you could learn to say back to 
 him ' Thd me go breagh,' that is, * Rightly,' it would be 
 worth something to the company." 
 
 " I think I can learn that, Denis," said the manager. 
 
 " Do," said the blacksmith. " It'll be as good as five 
 hundred shares, an' maybe a thousand ; for he's desper- 
 ate well thought of in the country, an' his word'll go far. 
 An' if ever ye're writin' to him an' could mind to spell 
 his name C-e-a-1-l-a-i-g, with a full stop over the ' g,' 
 it would just clench the job." 
 
 " I see you know a little Irish yourself, Denis," said 
 the manager. 
 
 " A bit," acknowledged the blacksmith. " A man in 
 a public position like mine has to have an iron in every 
 fire." 
 
 " You wouldn't have made a bad bank manager, 
 Denis," remarked the manager dryly; to which the
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 265 
 
 blacksmith returned a wink of perfect comprehension. 
 
 " Well then," he went on, " I tackled Aloysius 
 O'Bourke. Aloysius and I are very much of the same 
 way of thinking a kind of moderate Nationalists, with 
 an eye to which way the cat is jumpin'. I think you 
 may leave that side of things in my hands. The only 
 trouble I see is that when I go round among the boys 
 talkin' about what the factory is goin' to do for the 
 country, somebody else'll want to start an opposition 
 show just to show that he's the real patriot; but I'll 
 have to look out for that as well as I can." 
 
 " The next thing now is the Unionists. Well, in the 
 first place Mr. Normanby is one of their own sort. I 
 wouldn't put much on that ; for he's hardly enough of a 
 party man to please everybody. But a good few of the 
 real true-blues'll follow Mr. de Bullevant." 
 
 " Where would he get the money to take shares, 
 Denis ? " asked Mr. Jackson. 
 
 " I have it from Michael that the old gentleman's 
 goin' to sell him the head-rent of the hotel, an' put the 
 money into the company. I've been wondering what 
 was behind it ; an' it come into my head that maybe he 
 was layin' out Mr. Percy for a son-in-law for Mr. Nor- 
 manby on account of the fortune," said the black- 
 smith, chuckling joyously. " You'd better look out for 
 yourself, Mr. Jackson." 
 
 " That'll do now, Denis," said the cashier in some 
 confusion, as the manager noticed. 
 
 " Anyhow, as I say," continued the blacksmith, " the 
 Orange party will follow the landlord. Then there's a 
 lot of them I'll just tip the old cry of the North-East 
 corner to; that's good enough for what ye might call 
 the romantic section of them. And as for the remainder, 
 an' that's the bulk of them, the divil a fluke ye'll get 
 out of them, no matter who's at the head of the under- 
 taking unless ye can show them in black an' white that 
 it's goin' to pay."
 
 266 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 " Well, we'll leave it at that, Denis, in the meantime," 
 said the manager. " As far as a comparatively simple 
 person like myself can judge, you're not on bad lines. 
 And if at the end of a fortnight things aren't going as 
 well as we'd like, we still have a card to play." 
 
 " The old card," said the blacksmith, " an' a trump 
 it is. Oh, you're a simple one, Mr. Wildridge, right 
 enough. Well, just a drop. An' more good luck to the 
 factory. If the people of Portnamuck knew the way 
 we've been workin' for them there'd be another monu- 
 ment in the street before long." 
 
 " I'm afraid," said the manager, cocking his eye at 
 Denis humorously, " I'm afraid after a while there would 
 be a heavy bill for tar." 
 
 " Not for the monument," said the blacksmith with 
 fervor. " If they ever come to know the ins an' outs 
 of this business it's ourselves they'll be puttin' the tar 
 on ; an' purty thick at that ! "
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 IN a very short time the machinations of the black- 
 smith showed results. During the next few days a 
 steady stream of applicants for shares flowed in. 
 A judicious use by the manager of the blacksmith's hint 
 captured Father Kelly's heart, only too susceptible 
 where his almost childlike enthusiasms lay; and his in- 
 fluence speedily made itself felt. The blacksmith 
 worked his party for all he was worth ; and Mr. de Bulle- 
 vant's rumored adherence to the project, which was 
 substantiated by Michael Brannegan, gained consider- 
 able weight from the fact that he was actually going to 
 sell a piece of ground, his hitherto obstinate reluctance 
 to parting with his property being only equaled by his 
 readiness to mortgage it. The virulent opposition of 
 the other bank manager, so far from injuring the com- 
 pany, was really of service to it, being set down to jeal- 
 ousy of a success in which he was not going to share. 
 
 No question of the reality of Mr. Normanby's good 
 fortune was entertained. The frequent conferences 
 between the manager and Nora were attributed to busi- 
 ness acumen alone ; while Mr. Jackson's invariable 
 presence at them was put down to a judicious mixture 
 of the same quality and love. Nor was the cashier 
 thought any the less of for the blend, purely romantic 
 affection in Ireland being on the whole confined to cities. 
 
 In almost every particular, fortune seemed with the 
 conspiracy. Mr. Normanby, at no time suspicious, was 
 readily induced by the languor of his indisposition to 
 acquiesce in the delays attributed to Spanish corrup- 
 tion; and the secretary of the railway company, to 
 whom at the manager's suggestion Miss Nora had writ- 
 
 267
 
 268 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 ten to prepare the ground, returned a cordial promise of 
 cooperation. 
 
 Mr. Percy alone failed to fit into the scheme of things. 
 To Miss Nora's ultimatum he positively refused to re- 
 turn any answer at all except vague assertions about the 
 honor of a de Bullevant; and the manager inclined to 
 set down that part of his campaign as a failure. 
 
 But if the success of the company could be brought 
 about, Mr. Percy's defection was a small matter. On 
 that side for the time being the manager remained 
 calm. 
 
 The same could not be said about his personal rela- 
 tions with Miss Nora. As far as she was concerned 
 there was no change. She maintained the same attitude 
 of unquestioning submissiveness that had alternately 
 flattered and alarmed him since his moment of passion 
 on the night of the meeting. 
 
 But he was distinctly perturbed to observe with what 
 pleasure he was beginning to acquiesce in it, and nightly 
 contests with his conscience ensued, to be ended with 
 a resort to the hackneyed carpe diem of his favorite 
 Horace, and a determined procrastination of the whole 
 question till the fate of the company was definitely 
 settled. 
 
 The departure of Miss Nora for Belfast was accom- 
 panied by some public excitement. In furtherance of 
 his diplomacy the manager had allowed her mission to 
 leak out. The immediate result was a quickening of the 
 demand for shares. The advantage to the company of 
 a railway connection to Belfast was obvious to every- 
 body; and the success of Miss Nora's appeal to the 
 secretary backed up by her father's immense wealth was 
 hardly questioned. 
 
 Miss Nora's easy geniality to all classes had long won 
 the hearts of the populace of Portnamuck; and this 
 fresh evidence of her loyalty to the town increased their 
 prepossession in her favor. Long before the evening
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 269 
 
 char-a-banc to the station was due to depart, a mixed 
 crowd of men, women, and children had assembled round 
 Michael Brannegan's corner; and when she came in 
 sight a cheer arose that gave Phil Moran a busy couple 
 of minutes with his horses. 
 
 Miss Nora accepted the tribute with calmness. 
 
 " Steady there, Jenny, you old idiot," she cried to a 
 particularly vociferous female admirer who insisted on 
 helping her up ; " you'd think I'd no legs." 
 
 She swung herself easily on to the vehicle, and looked 
 round the crowd. The manager was just below her, 
 with Jackson at his elbow. 
 
 " Hold on a minute, Phil," said Miss Nora to the 
 driver. " Jacks, keep back those boys." 
 
 She bent down to the manager. 
 
 " Mr. Wildridge," she said, her eyes sparkling, " what 
 do you think has happened? Percy came round just 
 now with the deed completed, ready for Dad's signature, 
 and it's signed and posted off to be registered, I think 
 he said. Fancy old Percy. I say " she bent lower 
 " I think he wanted to marry me on the spot." She 
 laughed delightedly, then sobered. " Do you know, I 
 felt a mean cat for a minute or two, till I remembered 
 he deserved it. If I hadn't had the excuse of the car 
 waiting I'd never have been able to put him off. And 
 I say " she bent still lower and a sparkle of the old 
 mischief lit her eye " he asked me to kiss him good- 
 by." The manager's glance spoke him about nineteen 
 again. " I didn't," murmured Miss Nora hurriedly. 
 " Get on, Phil ! " 
 
 The horses started with a jerk and a clash of chains. 
 Another vociferous cheer rose spontaneously from the 
 crowd. 
 
 " God bless her pretty face," called out Marget Ann 
 Doolahan, and a hearty chorus endorsed the sentiment. 
 But Miss Nora was bending over the strap of her port- 
 manteau, and her pretty face was hidden.
 
 270 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 " Come along back to the Bank, Jackson," cried the 
 manager boisterously, " and we'll crack a wee bottle of 
 fizz. Old de Bullevant has climbed down, the company 
 is going strong, and and sufficient unto the day is 
 the evil thereof ! "
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 THE somewhat spectacular departure of Miss 
 Nora on her mission still further stimulated 
 application for shares. For the next few days 
 progress if not extraordinarily rapid was steady, and 
 the directors descended the Bank steps cheerfully after 
 their frequent interviews with the manager. 
 
 Mr. Finnegan became daily more expansive on the 
 subject of the company, and not content with multiply- 
 ing tenfold in his talk his first subscription for 
 shares, made it known in every portion of the town, ex- 
 cept Michael Brannegan's bar-parlor, that if the full 
 amount of the capital were not subscribed on the ap- 
 pointed date, he was quite prepared to step into the 
 breach, if he might so express it, with a thousand pounds 
 or so. Mr. Sharpe stuck firm to his original promise 
 to subscribe five hundred pounds as soon as he was satis- 
 fied the concern had a reasonable promise of success, a 
 condition which he admitted would be satisfied by def- 
 inite news of the coming of the railway ; while the seeds- 
 man relapsed into deep melancholy on the ground that 
 an undertaking which was beginning with such unclouded 
 prospects was practically certain to come to grief in the 
 end. 
 
 Michael, who had not yet recovered from the insult 
 to his dignity sustained at the Town Hall, was senten- 
 tious but morose. 
 
 If the ignorant roughs that disgraced themselves and 
 the town at the meeting were going to put up the money, 
 he was reported to have said, he would see that he had 
 his share of the profits; and if they weren't he had 
 
 271
 
 272 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 bought his head-rent cheap over the business, and didn't 
 care a d n. 
 
 In the Bank decided hopefulness prevailed. Three 
 days after Miss Nora left, the manager was able to write 
 to her that over eight thousand pounds' worth of shares 
 had been subscribed for. By return of post came the 
 great news that the railway company's attitude to the 
 question of an extension had been much modified by the 
 prospect of the successful flotation of a large manu- 
 facturing company, and that the secretary and one of 
 the directors were coming to report on the district in 
 two days' time, by the same car as Miss Nora. 
 
 Excitement ran high in the town. The coming of the 
 railway was immediately taken as certain, and quite a 
 spate of subscriptions flowed in from Portnamuck. The 
 rural districts, as usual, remained cautious ; but in the 
 two days Mr. Jackson changed an amazing number of 
 one-pound notes for farmers who had made that excuse 
 for calling into the Bank to see how the land lay. 
 
 As instructed, the cashier was quite noticeably cau- 
 tious in his commendation of the project, in consequence 
 of which most of his customers drove home fairly well 
 persuaded that the company had no need of their as- 
 sistance, and was, therefore, well worth supporting. 
 
 Feverish efforts were made by the citizens to improve 
 the appearance of the town. Curtains were washed, 
 windows were cleaned. Mr. Keffey, the builder, was 
 stated to have sold over a lorry of lime for whitewash ; 
 and his staff of two painters made so much money in 
 overtime and tips the first few days that they entirely 
 suspended work in order to lay out the money in the 
 customary fashion; whereby the doctor shared in the 
 general activity, for no fewer than three householders 
 endeavoring to do their own painting fell from or 
 through ladders, and injured limbs. 
 
 The directors were no less active. The seedsman not 
 only made his window a flame of warring colors with
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 273 
 
 cut flowers, but transferred half a dozen shrubs to the 
 family burying-plot and painted the railings ; Mr. Fin- 
 negan had his black tailed-coat sponged and pressed, 
 and wrote imperatively to one of his wholesale houses 
 for the gift of a lavender tie ; and Michael at the ex- 
 pense of the company put down half a dozen of the 
 best gooseberry champagne in ice, wired to Belfast for 
 a box of sixpenny cigars, and bought Phil Moran a new 
 hat, the cost of which he put down in the bill as " sundry 
 entertainment." 
 
 Punctually on the fateful morning Phil Moran's car 
 drew up at the hotel corner bearing the fates of Portna- 
 muck in the persons of the secretary of the railway com- 
 pany, whom the manager was quite astonishingly re- 
 lieved to find a stout, comfortable-looking, red-faced 
 man of at least some years older than himself, and the 
 director, a spare, mummified little body, meticulously 
 groomed, and wearing a frock-coat, the effect of which 
 was at the moment seriously impaired by the traveling- 
 cap he was wearing. 
 
 " Bedambut," said the voice of Terry at the manager's 
 elbow, " he's a dhry-lookin' wee bird that. There's a 
 kind av pounds-shillin's-an'-pence look about him I don't 
 much fancy. But the big fellow's a hearty-lookin' boyo. 
 It's himself you'd betther keep the soft-soap for; an' 
 bedambut I'd mix it wid a dhrop av whisky." 
 
 But the manager was half-way across the street to 
 meet Miss Nora. 
 
 They did not shake hands, but as they turned to walk 
 towards the Rectory, the manager found his left hand 
 touching Miss Nora's right in the folds of her dress, and 
 twenty-five consciences could not have prevented his giv- 
 ing it a swift surreptitious clasp and rejoicing when it 
 was returned. 
 
 " Well, Nora girl," he said, " didn't I tell you the 
 secretary was as good as yours, if he was under ninety? " 
 
 " Do you know," said Miss Nora with frank triumph,
 
 274. MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 " I rather think I have the secretary. But I say, Mr. 
 Wildridge, the other old fellow's as dry as sawdust. I 
 could make nothing of him. He's an old bachelor, and 
 a kind of old-maidy as well." 
 
 " There's nothing in the world, Nora," said the man- 
 ager, " so bad for a man as to live a bachelor till his age. 
 But listen, I think I'd better have a chat with him before 
 I leave for the Bank. I might be able to do something 
 with him. You won't mind if I don't leave you 
 home?" 
 
 " Och, come on a little bit of the way," said Miss Nora. 
 " I've such a lot to tell you. You'll manage him all 
 right. No," she cried with compunction, " I'm a pig. 
 We must put Dad first of all. Yes, go back. And, I 
 say, you won't mind if I run ? I'm awful anxious to see 
 old Dad." 
 
 " Run, Nora," said the manager. " Dad first of all is 
 what we're all sworn to. And I'll send you a note with 
 the good news before the car leaves. So don't worry." 
 
 " I'll try not to," answered Miss Nora soberly ; " but 
 all the same I shall. I don't think I'll really be at ease 
 till Dad's free of his word. You know don't you ? " 
 
 " I know," answered the manager, with a compre- 
 hending pressure of her hand. " And if the studied wis- 
 dom of my conversation this morning doesn't captivate 
 even an old-maidish bachelor, I haven't been a student of 
 human nature for more years than I'd like to tell you, 
 Nora. Good-by, now ; and off you run." 
 
 The manager stood till Nora was turning the corner 
 to the Rectory, and answered her farewell wave of the 
 hand with gaiety. 
 
 " The agreement recently arrived at among all parties 
 to this business," he said sharply to one of his inner 
 voices, " is that nothing whatever is to be considered at 
 present but the delivery of Mr. Normanby. So shut 
 up." 
 
 The blacksmith met him at the door of the hotel.
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 275 
 
 " Come in, quick, Mr. Wildridge," he whispered 
 eagerly. " The wee director-man has got a tall hat on 
 
 and he's that business-lookin' that d n the one of 
 
 them'll face him they're that afeard of puttin' their foot 
 in it." 
 
 " Where's the secretary, Denis ? " asked the manager. 
 
 " He's at the bar with Finnegan," said the blacksmith 
 with glee. " Ould yellow-face was here half an hour 
 before the car come in, with a speech in his pocket as 
 long as the branch line we're lookin' for, an' when I seen 
 the secretary was an aisy-goin' lookin' chap, I turned 
 the ould gas-bag on to him." 
 
 " Will the secretary be fit for him, Denis ? " asked the 
 manager. 
 
 " And more," returned the blacksmith. " At the rate 
 he's goin' he'll rid us of the ould pollute till the com- 
 pany's floated. Finnegan has been drinkin' hot punch 
 already, an' it little more nor breakfast time. That'd 
 be all right for a man like me that can sweat it out in his 
 day's work, but it's no drink for a draper at nine o'clock 
 in the mornin'." 
 
 " That's all right, Denis," said the manager with 
 satisfaction. " I was afraid of Finnegan. I'll tackle 
 the director. Remember now, Denis, what you're to do 
 with him all day. And about three o'clock come round 
 to me and report." 
 
 " What prospect, sir ? " asked Mr. Jackson when his 
 chief arrived at the Bank. 
 
 " I think we'll do it, Jackson," said the manager, 
 executing a highly unprofessional step-dance. " The 
 railway had the whole ground surveyed last time an 
 extension was proposed, and were almost decided to come 
 in. All that blocked it was the consideration that there 
 was a summer traffic only. If the woolen manufactory 
 goes on the railway comes in; that's the situation in 
 a nutshell."
 
 276 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 " And what does the old fellow think ? " asked Mr. 
 Jackson. 
 
 *' I trust, Mr. Jackson," said the manager, " that you 
 have observed a certain becoming modesty in the local 
 head of this institution, and I am not going to boast 
 now ; but if I hadn't a business conscience seared by over 
 twenty years of joint-stock banking, I should blush when 
 I think of the views I expressed this morning about the 
 factory. But he's a sapless old stick, and as matter-of- 
 fact as a bank circular. Jackson, my boy, you know 
 what I said to you about bachelorhood before. If you 
 desire a living sermon on the subject go and look at 
 that decorated old Pharaoh at the hotel." 
 
 " I've no notion of remaining a bachelor," declared 
 the cashier stoutly, and blushed even beyond his ordi- 
 nary. 
 
 " Ha," said the manager, looking hard at him. 
 " Well, you're right," he went on. " For sapping gen- 
 erosity and vital heat, for substituting for the warm 
 coloring of romance the cold grayness of that most 
 damnable virtue common sense, there's nothing so ap- 
 pallingly effective as bachelorhood prolonged too late. 
 You'd hardly believe it, but that old anchorite traveled 
 down from Belfast this morning and never observed that 
 Nora's hair curled naturally." 
 
 " That's odd, too, sir," said Jackson. " All the old 
 fellows seem to run after Nora." The manager glanced 
 up sharply. " Look at the secretary, for instance," 
 continued Jackson. 
 
 " To be sure," said the manager. " Of course he's 
 not so very old, Jackson." 
 
 " He may think that, sir," returned the cashier. 
 " But all the same he's no chicken." 
 
 " I suppose not," said the manager a little gloomily. 
 " Come now, Jackson, let's get on. There'll likely be a 
 rush of applicants to-day." 
 
 The prognostication was correct. When the black-
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 277 
 
 smith arrived shortly after three o'clock the manager 
 was able to announce additional subscriptions of almost 
 one thousand pounds. 
 
 " And what luck about the railway, Denis ? " he in- 
 quired anxiously. 
 
 " The ould fellow's give me a divil of a day of it pokin* 
 his nose all over the town and country. I've had two 
 
 bottles of. champagne wine, an' ate d d near the half 
 
 of four cigars ; an' what my inside is goin' to do about 
 it I'm not right sure yet," said the blacksmith with a 
 twinkle in his eye that belied his dismal tones. " But 
 the railway's right, Mr. Wildridge. He's as good as 
 told me he'd recommend it if the factory goes on; an' 
 the secretary says that will settle the job, for the ould 
 fellow was the man kiboshed it before. We want you to 
 come up with us before the car goes, to show him the 
 site ; an' ye can be tellin' him as ye go along what shares 
 is taken." 
 
 " I'm with you, Denis," said the manager. " Wait till 
 I write a note. Send that up to the Rectory, Jackson. 
 And turn your key and come along to see the last of the 
 old chap. Now, Denis."
 
 CHAPTER XXX 
 
 MISS NORA was in the middle of her afternoon 
 toilet when the manager's note arrived. She 
 looked over it hastily and uttered a war- 
 whoop she had never excelled in the days when her hair 
 was permanently down, as indeed it was temporarily at 
 the moment. 
 
 " Dad," she cried, dancing into her father's room with 
 the letter brandished above her head ; " great news ; the 
 railway is coming into Portnamuclc." 
 
 " Great news indeed, Nora dear," said Mr. Normanby, 
 smiling fondly at her enthusiasm. " But from what 
 your cousin told me during his hurried call this after- 
 noon I expected that. It will be a splendid thing for the 
 town, and especially for our factory." 
 
 " You bet it will, Dad," she said with emphasis. " I 
 say, Dad, do you mind if I run down the town and see 
 Cousin Henry off? " 
 
 " You would be very remiss, Nora dear, if you didn't," 
 said her father. " But I would suggest, my love, that 
 you put a little more clothing on before you set out." 
 
 " Right-oh," cried Miss Nora. " But I could go 
 down the town as I am, I'm that delighted. Oh, Dad- 
 dleums dear," she exclaimed, throwing her arms sud- 
 denly about his neck, " if I could only tell you how 
 pleased I am ! " 
 
 Five minutes later she issued from the front door like 
 a whirlwind, swept down the path and through the gate, 
 and in her stride kicked an empty canister high over the 
 hedge into the adjoining field. Then she pulled up, felt 
 gingerly at her back hair, and began to walk staidly 
 along the road. 
 
 278
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 279 
 
 But although she did not know it, Miss Nora was 
 destined that afternoon to become one of the instru- 
 ments of the Evil One, who at this moment issued from 
 a doorway in the shape of a furtive-looking cat with a 
 young chicken in her mouth. 
 
 Instantly Miss Nora's decorum vanished. 
 
 " Scat, scat, you old devil," she called at the top of 
 her ringing young voice. The cat broke into an easy 
 canter, and disappeared up a side lane. Miss Nora 
 glanced hastily round for a missile, pounced on a large 
 fragment of turnip that had dropped from some coun- 
 try cart, and darted in pursuit. 
 
 But even Miss Nora's long legs were unable to re- 
 cover the instant she had lost. For the first hundred 
 yards she succeeded in keeping the cat in view ; but then 
 a sharp turning and a cross-lane threw her out, and 
 after a few moments' search she abandoned the chase. 
 
 " Blow," said Miss Nora in disgust, " the cruel old 
 beast!" 
 
 She looked round her for a mark. The devil was at 
 her elbow. Along the blank wall that divided her from 
 the main street there passed slowly the upper portion of 
 a particularly shiny top hat. Miss Nora's eyes 
 sparkled. She raised her arm, dropped it, raised it 
 again. 
 
 " Hang it," she said to herself, " this is my very last 
 kick. It's only some old commercial traveler." She 
 launched her missile. Doubtless the adversary was 
 astride of it. It took the top hat about two inches from 
 the crown. 
 
 Instantly there followed a cry of consternation from 
 half a dozen throats. Pattering feet sounded on the 
 road. Miss Nora took to her heels, and tore up the lane 
 towards home. 
 
 Before she had run far she heard the sound of feet 
 coming swiftly in her direction. She hesitated, stopped, 
 and looked eagerly for a gap in the hedge that bounded
 
 280 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 the lane on one side. In vain. The footsteps were at 
 hand. 
 
 Just as she turned to retreat, round the corner came 
 Mr. Jackson. 
 
 " Good Lord, Jacks," she gasped, " what a fright you 
 gave me. Quick, let's get out of this. I'm just after 
 hitting somebody's top hat such a bang." And Miss 
 Nora broke into a trill of laughter. 
 
 " But what's up? " she asked anxiously, breaking off. 
 
 For the cashier was staring at her in open-mouthed 
 consternation. 
 
 "Do you know whose hat you hit?" he said. "It 
 was the railway director's." 
 
 Miss Nora stood still, gazing at the cashier. The 
 color slowly left her face. 
 
 " Oh, Jacks," she uttered in an awe-stricken whisper, 
 " what an awful thing. Do you think it will do any 
 harm about the railway ? " 
 
 " I'm awfully sorry," returned Mr. Jackson reluc- 
 tantly, " but I'm afraid it'll do no good. I only saw 
 the old fellow's face for an instant, but it was positively 
 white with rage." 
 
 Two tears started from Miss Nora's eyes, and trickled 
 down her face. She dashed them away. 
 
 " Look here, Jacks," she cried impetuously. " I'll 
 go straight and tell him I did it, and apologize. If 
 there's an ounce of sport in him he'll forgive me. I 
 know he will." 
 
 " Better not, Nora," said the cashier, restraining her. 
 " He's not that sort of old josser at all. Besides, it 
 might get your cousin into a row. If you want to tell 
 him, better write. There's a crowd waiting to see the 
 car off, and you could never explain properly." 
 
 " Oh, what on earth am I to do," cried Miss Nora 
 with a sobbing catch in her breath. " Jacks," she said 
 eagerly, " don't tell Mr. Wildridge. No, do do ; and
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 281 
 
 ask him to come straight and advise me. I'll be wait- 
 ing inside the gate. Hurry, Jacks, hurry, like a dear 
 good chap. Oh," sobbed Miss Nora, " what a fool I've 
 been." 
 
 " Keep up your heart, Nora," said Mr. Jackson clum- 
 sily ; " maybe it'll be all right, yet." 
 
 But his consolation lacked heartiness, and it was a 
 very woebegone girl who emerged from behind a laurel- 
 bush when the Rectory gate opened to admit Mr. Wild- 
 ridge and his cashier. 
 
 " And so it was you, Nora, that knocked off the old 
 gentleman's hat," said the manager. He grasped both 
 her hands, and stepped back a little to look at her. 
 
 Miss Nora nodded her head miserably, but could not 
 speak. 
 
 The manager gazed gravely at her for a moment. 
 Then all at once he began to laugh. He laughed louder 
 and louder. A perfect ecstasy of merriment seized 
 him. He released Miss Nora's hands and rocked to 
 and fro in an abandonment of mirth. Then he stag- 
 gered back against a tree, and wiped his eyes. 
 
 " Oh, Nora, darlin'," he gasped weakly. " I've had 
 many a good day since I saw you first ; but this is the 
 best of all. There was an old magnate strutting along 
 with the self-importance of a self-made millionaire, heavy 
 with the fates of the whole district and somebody 
 makes a cock-shy of his hat. Oh, if you'd only seen his 
 face, Nora, if you'd only seen his face, or Denis's 
 or mine. Don't look so solemn, big girl. Laugh, 
 daughter, laugh. For you've done something memor- 
 able this day. Long after the railway has come in, and 
 the factory has succeeded, and the town is a hive of in- 
 dustry, and you're an old woman, and the director is 
 dust, it'll warm your heart to remember that after we'd 
 plotted and schemed to bring him here, and the whole 
 town had courted him, and danced attendance on him,
 
 282 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 and abased itself before him as if he was a little pro- 
 vincial providence, you up with a piece of turnip and 
 knocked off his hat ! " 
 
 " But do you really think it will make no difference 
 about the railway," faltered Nora. " Really and 
 truly? " There was a half-incredulous hope in her 
 voice. 
 
 " Really and truly, honor bright, wish I may die," 
 answered the manager stoutly. " The director is a busi- 
 ness man. If his report would have been favorable he's 
 not going to alter it, mad as he is personally, for the 
 sake of his dignity and a top hat. And even if he does, 
 no matter. There's the secretary's report as well. 
 And if at the worst the railway doesn't come in, still no 
 matter. We'll float the company in spite of it. I'm 
 off to meet Denis now, and bring up our heavy bat- 
 talions. This little reverse will do us good. We were 
 winning too easily. Good-by now, Nora. And just a 
 twinkle of the old smile before we go." 
 
 Miss Nora stretched out her hands impulsively, and 
 laid them in his. A mist came over her eyes. 
 
 " You've been a brick," she said ; " win or lose you've 
 been a brick to me." 
 
 She turned away quickly, and hurried in among the 
 shrubs. 
 
 " Poor Nora," said Mr. Jackson ; " she's awfully cut 
 up about the mess she's made of things. But it was 
 just like her. She'd go to the devil for a joke." 
 
 " Never mind, Jackson, my boy," said the manager ; 
 " it's a fault you'll blame the less as you grow older." 
 
 " Oh, I'm not blaming Nora," protested Mr. Jackson. 
 " Do you know, sir, I think more of her lately than ever 
 I did before." (" H'm, h'm," said the manager to him- 
 self. ) " I never knew how clever and well-read she was 
 till I heard her talking to you. You seem to pull her 
 out some way or another. And you can turn her round 
 your finger, sir. She believes you were really laughing
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 283 
 
 about the old chap's hat. And you did it awfully well, 
 I must say." 
 
 "And do you think I was affecting to laugh? " said 
 the manager. " My dear fellow, it's the most priceless 
 bit of topsy-turvy humor I've met in my passage 
 through this vale of dullness. But it'll be costly, I ad- 
 mit. When I said before that I was putting my utmost 
 into this business I didn't really mean it. I thought I 
 could win at my ease. It's a common delusion in other 
 matters than finance, Jackson, my son," interjected the 
 manager. " But now I've really got my back to the 
 wall. And you must do a little more than your best 
 to help me, on Nora's account. For if we fail now she'll 
 never forgive herself." 
 
 " I know that, sir," said Jackson ; " and I'll do all a 
 fellow can do." 
 
 " Good lad," said the manager, clapping him on the 
 back. " And now I'm off to see Denis and plan our 
 masterstroke." 
 
 " Couldn't I give you a hand, sir," inquired the cash- 
 ier. 
 
 " Better not," said the manager. " No ; keep out of 
 this. We're going to do a blackguardedly thing, Jack- 
 son lad. For the sake of Miss Nora's bright eyes we're 
 going to launch a thousand spites and burn the topless 
 towers of Portnamuck. We're going to cast the apple 
 of discord into the town and pick our neighbors' pockets 
 while they're pursuing it. To come down from the 
 classical to the colloquial, Mr. Jackson," said the man- 
 ager, " we're going to set the whole neighborhood by the 
 ears. And hear me swear," continued the manager, 
 raising his right hand and his voice at the same time: 
 " until the success of the Portnamuck Woolen Factory, 
 Ltd., is secured, outside of my legitimate business as a 
 banker not one thought of any other subject crosses my 
 brain. So if you want my advice on the interesting 
 questions of love, courtship, and marriage, on which
 
 284 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 subjects, I don't mind telling you, Mr. Jackson, I have 
 acquired a good deal more data during these last few 
 weeks, you'll have to wait till the concern is floated." 
 
 " All right, sir," said Jackson with a half-conscious 
 laugh. " For the next fortnight I'll do my own court- 
 ing." 
 
 " I wonder, now," said the manager, looking after him 
 abstractedly, " I wonder what he meant by that. But, 
 no," he said with resolution, " the company, the com- 
 pany ! "
 
 CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 A CASUAL observer would have noticed nothing 
 unusual going on in the town of Portnamuck 
 during the following week. But to the initiated 
 there were several incidents of significance. A general 
 constraint had spread over the town. Salutations were 
 curter, hospitality less rife. The nightly gathering at 
 the corner opposite Michael Brannegan's had split into 
 two, occupying different sides of the angle ; and conver- 
 sation, though more eager, was subdued. Old cronies 
 of a lifetime's standing might have been observed to dis- 
 cuss their nightly pints of stout with different mates, 
 and to select their public-house with a view to congruity 
 of religion with the proprietor rather than as formerly 
 to the quality of drink he vended. Mrs. Rafferty osten- 
 tatiously carried a damaged pair of shoes past the 
 cobbler's shop to an inferior practitioner farther down 
 the street, and on her way back indulged in a spirited 
 controversy with the cobbler's wife on the subject of the 
 spirits of the departed, with special reference to the ad- 
 herents of their respective faiths. On Wednesday the 
 flute and drum band of the local Loyal Orange Lodge 
 passed through the town playing " The Boyne Water," 
 and the following night the Robert Emmett brass band 
 practised " A Nation Once Again " in the square op- 
 posite their band-room till within half an hour of clos- 
 ing-time. 
 
 On Friday a new star appeared, not indeed in the 
 heavens, but in the fanlight over the door of the Hi- 
 bernian Hall; and on Saturday morning a belated 
 aspiration about the eternal welfare of our late sover- 
 eign King William the Third was discovered to have been 
 
 285
 
 286 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 engrossed during the night in green paint on the gable 
 of the Orange Hall. And as a direct outcome of these 
 activities the Reverend Mr. Normanby on Sunday, very 
 much to his surprise, preached to a crowded congrega- 
 tion, including in the back seats a number of dis- 
 tant farmers who had not been previously known to at- 
 tend the means of grace for above twenty years. 
 
 The connection between the various incidents related 
 and the increasingly extensive application for shares in 
 the woolen factory was less apparent ; and Mr. Jackson, 
 true to the implied compact with his manager, did not 
 openly draw any inferences. Each evening he received 
 a bulletin for Miss Nora from the manager, and was no 
 more seen in the town. On two mornings he produced, 
 with more ostentation than the amounts quite justified, 
 applications for shares, and hinted rather defensively at 
 his exertions. But the manager had withdrawn into 
 himself, and although secretly disappointed by the 
 amount of support he was receiving from his subordi- 
 nate, refrained from comment. All his energies were 
 concentrated on his endeavors to secure a successful flo- 
 tation. Mr. Jackson, at no time a critic of his chief, 
 had been up to now rather inclined to regard him as an 
 easy-going and tolerant chum of no particular business 
 capacity ; and his admiration and loyalty were redoubled 
 as he marked the manager's handling of prospective 
 applicants for shares ; nicely discriminating the degrees 
 of flattery among citizen and farmer, credulous and sus- 
 picious, masculine and feminine; dexterously insinuat- 
 ing the certain success of the company without com- 
 mitting himself to positive statement ; and skating over 
 the thin ice of political and religious animosity without 
 even a threatening of disaster. After a diversity of ex- 
 perience with managers who were or supposed themselves 
 to be overworked, Mr. Jackson, too, was grateful to find 
 that these daily exertions, the evening work consequent 
 on them, and a voluminous correspondence with the sec-
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 287 
 
 retary of the railway company, left no trace on the 
 manager's temper, except, perhaps, that his manner had 
 more of business formality than was accustomed, and 
 that his conversation was less frequently lightened by 
 gleams of whimsical humor. 
 
 But on the Wednesday of the second week after the 
 episode of the top hat, the manager, totting up the day's 
 applications for shares, unexpectedly returned to nor- 
 mal. 
 
 " Jackson, my boy," he said with a sigh of satisfac- 
 tion, " I think I shall soon be hanging up my votive 
 offering. At the rate subscriptions are coming along 
 our ship is practically sure to come home. A full week 
 yet before we go to allotment, and less than five thou- 
 sand to get in. And if the worst comes to the worst, 
 Mr. Normanby, on the strength of his site, which I may 
 tell you the directors are certain to buy, could put up 
 two thousand five hundred at least. But except in the 
 last resort I won't have him do it. That two thousand 
 five hundred must be reserved to ease the dear old man's 
 declining years, and blunt the keenness of his disap- 
 pointment." 
 
 " It'll make a jolly nice little dowry for Nora too," 
 said Jackson briskly. 
 
 " Begad, so it will," returned the manager, and looked 
 at him thoughtfully for a moment. '" Though he'll be 
 a lucky enough fellow, whoever he is, without it. But if 
 he should happen to be a young man in a bank wait 
 now, Jackson, don't look so confused; I forgot that I 
 was on a tabooed subject. She shall have her dowry all 
 the same. Why, when we've got in fifteen thousand 
 pounds already, surely we can squeeze out another five. 
 I tell you victory is as good as within our grasp." 
 
 ** It's simply extraordinary, sir," said Jackson. " I 
 never thought the people would do it. Of course I know 
 it's mostly through party spite; but I wish you'd let 
 me know how it's been managed."
 
 288 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 " As a reward for your self-control, Mr. Jackson," 
 said the manager, " you shall assist at the machinations 
 of Denis and myself this very evening. Come straight 
 back after delivering this very cheerful report to Miss 
 Normanby. By that time he'll be with me. You 
 needn't fatigue yourself by canvassing this evening." 
 
 The cashier detected a slight trace of meaning in the 
 last sentence, but ignored it, and hurried off with the 
 letter. When he got back he found Denis in the private 
 room, enjoying the usual comforts. 
 
 " Now, Denis," said the manager, " disclose the de- 
 tails of our horrid plot." 
 
 The blacksmith cleared his throat, looked about for a 
 likely spot on which to spit, and after deciding on the 
 waste-paper basket, leaned back in his chair and began : 
 
 " Well, Mister Jackson, the way of it was this. The 
 evenin' Miss Nora made the bull's-eye with the turnip 
 it's a pity it hadn't been a stone an' took the old boy 
 six inches lower Mr. Wildridge here come round to 
 me. ' Denis,' he says, ' we're up a gum-tree. If old 
 Judas Iscariot can wreck the railway it's as good as 
 done with.' ' 
 
 " It wasn't exactly that way I put it," said the man- 
 ager ; " but no matter " 
 
 " ' Now,' says he, * if the company floats, the rail- 
 way'll come in, I think; an' railway or no railway the 
 company must float, for I'll not have a good-lookin' 
 girl like Miss Nora put about if the whole district 
 should go bankrupt.' ' 
 
 The blacksmith winked roguishly at Mr. Jackson. 
 
 " Go on, Denis," said the manager, laughing. " If I 
 didn't say it, maybe that was what was in my mind." 
 
 " ' Well,' says Mr. Wildridge, * we've worked the 
 patriotic dodge, and it's done well; but it won't carry 
 us through.' ' An' that's true enough, sir,' says I ; 
 * the hot party men has the fun, but the other fellows 
 has the money.' ' But if ye beat the old drum,' says
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 289 
 
 Mr. Wildridge, * they're all party men. Can ye do it, 
 Denis? ' says he. ' For that'll work the oracle, or I'm 
 badly taken in.' ' It will, Mr. Wildridge,' says I. 
 * The only time ye can get the people of this country to 
 work together for the good of it is when they're at each 
 other's throats, an' if I haven't them guttin' others in 
 two days I've been losing my time in this town for forty 
 years.' ' 
 
 " And did you do it, Denis ? " asked Mr. Jackson. 
 
 " Did I what? " said Denis with scorn. " Haven't ye 
 seen the shares rollin' in? " 
 
 " But how, Denis ? " persisted the cashier. 
 
 " As easy as kiss your hand. Listen. Half a dozen 
 words'll tell ye. First of all I went to a couple of Sinn 
 Feiners. * Boys,' says I, ' have you heard what old 
 de Bullevant is puttin' his money in the company for? ' 
 ' No,' says they, * what? ' ' To make an English com- 
 pany of it,' says I ; ' to bring over Englishmen from 
 Yorkshire an' Lancashire to work it, an' make an Eng- 
 lish colony of the place. Another Plantation,' says I, 
 
 ' is what he's after, d n all else. If there's a man 
 
 in the country of your way of thinkin' that has four- 
 pence,' says I, * turn him upside down an' shake it out 
 of his pockets, an' put it in the company. An' write far 
 an' wide for backin's. For the man that has the shares 
 is the man that runs the show. If you want an Irish 
 company, put that in your pipe an' smoke it.' Did 
 there come in one or two cheques signed in Irish from 
 the West an' Dublin way, Mr. Jackson? " 
 
 " Twenty at least," answered the cashier. 
 
 " Aye," said Denis, with a satisfied air. " That was 
 me; with the divil at my elbow here." He glanced 
 across humorously at Mr. Wildridge. 
 
 " No compliments, now, Denis," said the manager. 
 
 " In troth I shouldn't compare ye to him," said Denis, 
 raising his glass, " for he never kept a drop of drink like 
 this an' as far as I hear " he set down the empty
 
 290 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 glass regretfully " he never will. But to get on with 
 what I was tellin' you. When I had done with the Sinn 
 Feiners I went round to our own lodge-room, an' took 
 the secretary into a corner. * Peter,' says I, ' do you 
 know what's going on in this town under your very 
 nose ? ' * No,' says he, all surprised, ' what ? ' ' Well,' 
 says I, ' don't make me any the worse of it ; for after 
 all a Protestant horse has to wear shoes as well as a 
 Catholic one, but I have it from a dependable man of 
 their side that Mr. de Bullevant has called a meetin' of 
 the Orange Party, an' that they're set on makin' the 
 new woolen factory a Protestant show by hook or by 
 crook.' Ye could have seen the eyes bulgin' in his head. 
 ' The infernal schemer,' he says ; ' at the old ascend- 
 ency game. Now that the farmer has got from in under 
 his heel he wants to put it on the neck of the workin' 
 man.' ' Ye never said a truer word,' says I. * We'll 
 get the dirty work to do, as we always did; but as far 
 as good jobs is concerned, the divil a man of our side'll 
 get to be as much as a foreman.' * I'll have a word to 
 say to that,' says he, leppin' to his feet. * But can I 
 depend on what you say, Denis ? ' * Wait till to-mor- 
 row night,' says I, * an' if you don't see the Orange 
 band out beatin' up shareholders, call me a liar.' ' I'll 
 not wait till to-morrow night,' says he, * I'll start 
 this minit.' An' away he went out of the door like 
 smoke." 
 
 " And he did well for us too, Denis," said the man- 
 ager. " He must have brought over a thousand pounds' 
 worth of subscribers actually to the Bank steps." 
 
 " Oh, you can depend on Peter," said the blacksmith, 
 " at anything but his own trade." 
 
 "But what about the Orangemen, Denis?" asked 
 Mr. Jackson eagerly. " You didn't tackle them, 
 surely ? " 
 
 " Did I not? " answered the blacksmith with triumph. 
 " It was the easiest job of the lot. I went across to the
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 291 
 
 Worshipful Master of the Lodge him an* me is ould 
 friends, him bein' in the coal trade an' me bein' a black- 
 smith a great softener of party bitterness, I may tell 
 ye ' William,' says I, * when there was word of a Sinn 
 Fein blacksmith bein' brought to the town two years ago, 
 did I give you the tip or did I not ? ' ' Ye did, Denis,' 
 says he, * ye did, like an open-minded man. An' I put a 
 stop to him.' ' That's right, William,' says I, * so ye 
 did. Very well. The Secretary of the Hibernians came 
 round to me half an hour ago, an' asked me to pledge 
 myself to take two hundred pounds' worth of shares in 
 the new factory, an' told me if I did the game was in 
 their own hands. Can ye put two an' two together? ' 
 * Where's my hat,' says he, lookin' round him four 
 ways at once. ' An' William,' says I, ' the Hibernian 
 band is goin' out to collect the boys on Thursday night.' 
 * Our band'll be out to-morrow night,' says he, settin' 
 his teeth. An' it was. There's the whole thing for ye 
 now, Mr. Jackson. I may tell ye that the town knows 
 that Mr. Normanby won't ask to take shares if there's 
 enough demand without him. Will we manage it before 
 Wednesday, Mr. Wildridge?" 
 
 " We're nearly sure to," answered the manager. 
 " We're less than five thousand pounds short as it is, 
 and we have a week yet." 
 
 " If you're in any doubt about it, Mr. Wildridge," 
 said the blacksmith, " Father Kelly is presiding at a 
 meeting on Saturday night, an' I could get him, I think, 
 to say a word for the factory." 
 
 " If Father Kelly says a word for the factory, Denis," 
 said the manager, " the Orange party will take up the 
 rest of the shares themselves." 
 
 " It's as good as sure," said the blacksmith. 
 
 "You'll be hanged yet, Denis," said Mr. Jackson. 
 " That's all." 
 
 " If I hadn't learned to hold my tongue from I was a 
 child," rejoined the blacksmith, " I'd been hanged long
 
 292 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 ago. What luck about the railway, Mr. Wildridge? " 
 he asked, turning to the manager. 
 
 " It's a close thing, Denis," said the manager, purs- 
 ing up his lips dubiously. " The directors are two and 
 two, for and against coming in." 
 
 " And the old fellow with the tall hat? " asked Denis. 
 
 " Dead against us," said the manager. " But you 
 mustn't let Miss Nora hear that." 
 
 " No fear," returned the blacksmith. " She's down 
 in the mouth enough about him as it is. But it's a pity 
 we can't," said Denis, rubbing his shin, " for she'll break 
 some decent man's leg yet. If the factory goes on, 
 would they come in, do you think? " 
 
 " There's a chance, Denis, a bare chance," said the 
 manager. " The secretary has called a meeting of di- 
 rectors for next Thursday, and if I can wire him that 
 the shares are all taken up, he'll do his best. Denis," 
 said the manager thoughtfully, " did you hear a report 
 in the town that if the railway didn't come in we were 
 going to build a pier and run a steamboat service from 
 Belfast?" 
 
 " I did not," said the blacksmith in astonishment. 
 
 " Well, could you hear it ? " asked the manager. 
 " Because if you could I would mention it to the secre- 
 tary of the railway company, and it might help the 
 directors to come to a decision." 
 
 The blacksmith looked hard at the manager. A smile 
 slowly overspread his face. He took the manager's 
 hand, and the grip he gave it brought tears to the 
 owner's eyes. 
 
 " Mr. Wildridge," he said, " with two men like you 
 an' me workin' for this factory it'll do." 
 
 But next day it began to appear as if political ani- 
 mosity had shot its bolt. There was a heavy falling off 
 in applicants. 
 
 " This is the way one lie brings on another, Jack- 
 son," said the manager after returning from a stroll in
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 293 
 
 the town. " The report I've started about the pier has 
 created doubt as to whether the railway is coming in, in 
 consequence of which I'll have to write Miss Nora 
 Normanby a cheerful perversion of the truth this eve- 
 ning. But maybe we'll do better to-morrow." 
 
 But on Friday there was a still further declension; 
 and on Saturday morning Denis reported with alarm 
 that owing to an important horse-race in England the 
 crowds at the Hotel corner had coalesced the previous 
 night. 
 
 " The politics is failin' us, Mr. Wildridge," said 
 Denis. " But we can romp home with religion. I'll 
 try and manage to get a word of backin's to the com- 
 pany from his reverence at the meetin' to-night." 
 
 " Wait till we see how we do to-day, Denis," said the 
 manager. " The odium theologicum is the last resort." 
 
 "What's that now?" asked the blacksmith, staring. 
 
 " It has been neatly phrased as * Hating one another 
 for the love of God,' Denis," said the manager. 
 
 " Well, it was an Irishman said that, Mr. Wildridge," 
 said the blacksmith heartily. " For this is the country 
 where we can do it sevendably." 
 
 " It's just on that account, Denis," said the manager, 
 " that I've some scruples about availing myself of our 
 little weakness in that respect. But if we must we must. 
 If to-day doesn't do better for us, I'll send you word 
 by Mr. Jackson " 
 
 " And I'll do the rest," said Denis with determination. 
 
 " The old ruffian," said the manager to Jackson when 
 the blacksmith had gone. " He's a born intriguer. I 
 hope we'll disappoint him."
 
 CHAPTER XXXII 
 
 BUT Saturday turned out worse than ever. At 
 the end of the day's business there were still 
 almost four thousand pounds to come in. The 
 manager dispatched a glowing note to the Rectory, 
 and directed Mr. Jackson to call with the blacksmith 
 on his way. 
 
 His determination to keep away from Miss Nora till 
 the fate of the company was decided did not prevent him 
 from enjoying what he declared to himself was the 
 purely esthetic pleasure of watching her walk down the 
 path from church on the Sunday morning; and as he 
 skulked behind a tombstone for that purpose he was 
 buttonholed by Mr. Finnegan. 
 
 " Just a word, Mr. Wildridge," said the draper in a 
 mysterious whisper. (" Oh, Lord," said the manager 
 to himself, " and my dinner's at two." ) 
 
 " It is my intention, sir," said Mr. Finnegan, raising 
 his voice as he observed the churchyard emptying, " to 
 visit your office to-morrow and apply for two hundred 
 and fifty more shares." 
 
 " Delighted to hear it, I'm sure, Mr. Finnegan," said 
 the manager. " That's the true spirit. Lovely morn- 
 ing, isn't it ! " He edged towards the gate. 
 
 " A moment, Mr. Wildridge," said the draper, " till 
 I explain to you what I think I may say are the weighty 
 reasons that impel me to this step in spite of the fact 
 that the advent of the railway to our town is, if I am to 
 believe popular rumor, problematical." ("It can't be 
 helped," thought the manager with resignation, " but 
 Jane will murder me.") 
 
 294
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 295 
 
 " I have only this morning only this morning," re- 
 peated Mr. Finnegan with an air as if the time was of 
 great significance, " unearthed what I think I would be 
 j ustified in calling a " Mr. Finnegan paused and sud- 
 denly thrust his head round the tombstone, and having 
 satisfied himself that there was nobody on the other side 
 of it, whispered histrionically in the manager's ear 
 " a Romanist plot." 
 
 He paused again, apparently for an expression of 
 horror. 
 
 But the manager hadn't been in a bank twenty years 
 for nothing, and even his countenance refused to ex- 
 press anything. 
 
 " Do you know, sir," resumed Mr. Finnegan, " that 
 last night, under the guise of promoting education, the 
 priest of this parish called his followers together and 
 asked them to support our woolen factory by taking 
 shares? And I am credibly informed that he promised 
 he would apply for a further two hundred pounds' 
 worth of shares himself. Now, sir," said Mr. Finne- 
 gan the last of the stragglers had disappeared and 
 his voice rose oratorically " I am a moderate man. 
 I detest political prejudice. There is nothing I de- 
 preciate I think the word, sir, is ' depreciate ' so 
 much. I have built up what my pass-book in your old- 
 established and flourishing institution shows to be a 
 not unprosperous or unprogressive business, by taking 
 any man's money exclusive of his political views ; but I 
 draw the line, sir, at clerical interference, and espe- 
 cially clerical interference that aims at depriving our 
 worthy rector, whose churchwarden I have been since 
 what I might call the period of my adolescence, from 
 manifesting the interest he has always disclosed in the 
 welfare of this town, by placing his name on the share- 
 holders' list. He has been insidiously approached, sir, 
 and has, with what not even my close and long-continued 
 parochial intimacy with him can prevent me designating
 
 296 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 foolishly, consented to withdraw his candidature for 
 shares if they are all otherwise taken up; and this was 
 the hidden and concealed object. But it will fail, sir, 
 it will not succeed. The shares will all be applied for 
 before the close of the eleventh hour at three o'clock 
 on Wednesday " (" Oh, come now," thought the man- 
 ager, " that's something even if the roast is burnt ") 
 " and at the subsequent meeting of the directors, of 
 whom, as you know I am a humble er coadjutor, 
 I hope to be able to triumphantly report to Mr. Nor- 
 manby, who with a few of the largest shareholders, and 
 I trust our leading bank manager (The trousers will 
 be ready before the end of the week, Mr. Wildridge. I 
 am flattered by your esteemed order, sir) will, I am 
 sure, grace the occasion by his presence, that " 
 (" How on earth does he avoid losing himself? " queried 
 the manager to himself) " the forces of law and order 
 have received an overwhelming majority. Oh, my gra- 
 cious," exclaimed the draper, glancing at his watch in 
 dismay, " it's past two o'clock, and I am accustomed to 
 partake of my modest er luncheon at two o'clock 
 precisely. My wife, Mrs. Finnegan, will be very much 
 annoyed. You will excuse me, Mr. Wildridge " he 
 continued to shake the manager's hand as he spoke 
 "you will excuse me? I will be in the Bank at ten 
 o'clock to-morrow, with what I look upon as my widow's 
 mite towards the great cause of civil and religious lib- 
 erty. Good-by, sir, good-by." He gave the manager's 
 hand a last convulsive wring, tripped over the metal 
 ticket that marked somebody's grave-plot, staggered, 
 recovered himself, and as he drew near the gate glanced 
 again at his watch and broke into a shambling run. 
 
 "Blast him!" ejaculated the manager with venom. 
 " I hope his wife, Mrs. Finnegan, gives him a hot dinner 
 in more senses than one. Begad," said the manager, 
 rubbing his forehead with an abstracted air, " there's a 
 deal to be said for the bachelor state. If Jane is too
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 297 
 
 impudent with me I can always sack her. That will do 
 now, Anthony," he reproved himself sternly ; " none of 
 these speculations just at present. The company, my 
 boy, the company ! " He stepped out smartly towards 
 the Bank. " And if there's any reliance to be placed in 
 that tautological old gas-bag, I think our last card is 
 going to take the trick ! " 
 
 In the course of Monday's business over fifteen hun- 
 dred pounds' worth of shares were applied for, the 
 honors being decidedly with what Mr. Finnegan called 
 the party of law and order. On Tuesday about twelve 
 hundred shares were subscribed, the party positions 
 being reversed as the result of Denis's report at the Hi- 
 bernian Hall on Monday night. 
 
 " Now, Denis," said the manager on the evening of 
 Tuesday, " all we need is thirteen hundred pounds more. 
 Far be it from me to suggest anything in the nature of 
 deceit to a man of your probity; but if you could lay 
 your hands on any unprincipled ruffian who would con- 
 vey to each of the powerful parties that the other fel- 
 lows were just leading by a short head, I think I could 
 bring the smile back to Miss Nora's face. Do you know 
 any such degraded scoundrel? " 
 
 " I do," said Denis, with a world of drollery in his 
 wink, " and he's a blacksmith by trade, like myself." 
 
 " Then tell your fellow-directors to call their meeting 
 for four o'clock to-morrow evening," said the manager. 
 " I want to wire the secretary of the railway company 
 some time before five." 
 
 " Are you safe, sir, in assuming that the shares will 
 be fully applied for ? " asked Mr. Jackson anxiously, 
 after the blacksmith had joyfully departed. 
 
 " Jackson, my boy," said the manager, " under a 
 seared and sin-hardened front I cherish, to my secret 
 discomfort, some lingering sparks of what was, at your 
 time of life, an active and troublesome conscience. Out 
 of my late uncle's bounty I have set aside one thousand
 
 298 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 pounds to invest in the woolen factory. If we're short 
 to-morrow evening I'll make up the deficit ; if the shares 
 are fully taken up I will, as opportunity arises, relieve 
 those unfortunate persons that under the influence of 
 the political devil raised by Denis's incantations have 
 applied for more than they want, by buying from them 
 at par. But if I can circumvent our top-hatted and 
 cantankerous old friend over the railway and away 
 in the back of my head I've a notion that I can I 
 don't think many of them will wish to sell. Now, here's 
 your bulletin for Nora. Don't repeat what I've been 
 just saying, but make it clear to her that all doubt is 
 over." 
 
 " She'll never believe it, sir, till all the money is in," 
 said Mr. Jackson. " For a big, devil-may-care girl 
 like Nora, she's in an awful state of anxiety." 
 
 "Is she?" said the manager with a serious face. 
 " The poor dear girl. Here," he cried suddenly, " give 
 me an application form. Ten per cent, on application 
 is a hundred and thirty pounds. Where's my cheque- 
 book? There you are, Jackson, my son!" The man- 
 ager picked up the waste-paper basket and kicked it 
 high in the air, caught it out of the middle of a shower 
 of papers as it came down, and punted it over the coun- 
 ter. " The share-list is full, our task is at an end, Mr. 
 Normanby is free, Miss Nora has her dowry; and to- 
 morrow morning, Mr. Jackson," said the manager with 
 a bow of mock formality to his junior, " Mr. Anthony 
 Wildridge will attend at his desk as usual to dispense 
 wisdom on those delicate and absorbing questions of 
 the relations between the sexes that are after all the 
 only serious business of life." 
 
 Mr. Jackson jumped down off his stool and came 
 over to his manager with outstretched hand. 
 
 "Will you shake, sir?" he said heartily. They ex- 
 changed a long, firm grip. " And now, sir, give me the 
 letter for Nora."
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 299 
 
 " I think, Jackson," said the manager, " that seeing 
 you've still a good deal to do, I'll send off the glad news 
 by the fair hands of Jane." 
 
 " You should go yourself, sir," said Jackson. 
 
 But the manager was already at the door of the pri- 
 vate room and affected not to hear him. 
 
 " Anthony," he said to himself as he began to write, 
 " either your cashier is a very inexperienced young man 
 or he doesn't think of you as a possible competitor at 
 all. But if he hasn't the common sense to keep you 
 away from the emotional crisis at hand at the Rectory, 
 I'm relieved to find that you are wise enough to keep 
 away yourself. It is true, my dear fellow, that your 
 very strong desire to go, and your low cunning in sub- 
 stituting Jane for Mr. Jackson, are disquieting symp- 
 toms of your condition; and I really must remind you 
 pointedly that till the railway company arrives at a 
 decision your vow holds. Meditation on that question 
 is forbidden. It's going to be a devil of a struggle 
 when it comes pull bachelorhood, pull matrimony, 
 pull Nora, pull say, Horace. Don't anticipate it. 
 In the meantime a state of uncertainty has its charm."
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII 
 
 THE Committee-room of the Town Hall was al- 
 most uncomfortably full. It had been in- 
 tended to confine the meeting to directors and 
 a few of the larger subscribers; for a public meeting 
 Michael Brannegan, mindful of the last, would not hear 
 of till the shares were allotted and the company under 
 way; but speculation and excitement had run so high 
 on the closing day for applications that the town had 
 presented the appearance of market-day from early 
 morning, and the rendezvous had leaked out. Not a 
 single specimen of " riff-raff " had, however, been able 
 to escape Michael's lynx eye and brawny arm. The 
 audience was entirely composed of prospective share- 
 holders. In the second row of seats sat the directors, 
 calm in their knowledge of a successful flotation; and 
 each man looking, as he doubtless felt, that his agree- 
 able consummation was really due to his exertions. 
 The blacksmith, over whose bosom business considera- 
 tions had begun to resume their sway, was alone in a 
 widespread disclaimer to any part in the success. In 
 the front seat sat Mr. Normanby, frail but cheerful, 
 with his daughter close to his side, looking, except for 
 a momentary flicker of an eyelid as she caught Denis's 
 glance, almost disconsolate. 
 
 " I know I ought to feel like turning somersaults," 
 said poor Nora to the manager before the proceedings 
 began, " and I would, too, if I hadn't still to tell dad 
 that the fortune is up a tree. And there's Percy in the 
 room. I know I won't have much trouble with him 
 when that piece of news gets about ; but there's a horrid 
 proposing kind of a look in his eye ; and if he proposes 
 
 300
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 301 
 
 to me to-night, I'll feel like smacking him in the face; 
 and I expect that would hardly do." A little smile 
 trembled on her lips. 
 
 " It wouldn't do at all," declared the manager ; " and 
 rather than have it happen, I'll sit beside you myself 
 when I've spoken my piece." 
 
 " I thought of asking you to do that," said Miss 
 Nora with just a hint of the old sauciness ; " but I was 
 too shy," she whispered. 
 
 " Steady, Anthony," said the manager to himself. 
 " Keep your head. 
 
 " There's Michael nodding at me, Nora," he said 
 hurriedly. " All right, Mr. Brannegan. 
 
 " Mr. Chairman, Miss Nora, and Gentlemen," he 
 said, standing up " I am not here to make a speech, 
 but merely to announce that the public spirit and pa- 
 triotism of your town and district," Denis and he ex- 
 changed a momentary glance, " have resulted in an 
 overwhelming success. At three o'clock this evening 
 the share capital of the Portnarnuck Woolen Factory, 
 Ltd., was oversubscribed for by eleven hundred pounds." 
 And the manager sat down. 
 
 " Hould on, now, boys " Michael raised a hand 
 about the size of a ham " I want to tell ye that we got 
 that money independent of the Reverend Mr. Norman- 
 by's offer to take shares ; and that as soon as he heard 
 that he stood down so as to let us have it all among 
 ourselves, like the gentleman he is. I wish," said 
 Michael bitterly, " there was more of yez like him. 
 Three cheers for him now, boys ; and the man that gets 
 dry cheerin' can wet his whistle afterwards at my ex- 
 pense. Hould on till I get on my feet." 
 
 A momentary pause followed while Michael struggled 
 with the arm-chair. Mr. Finnegan coughed and took a 
 calculating glance at him. 
 
 " Cheer loike h 1, boys," came an agonized whisper 
 from Terry at the back of the room, " an' don't wait
 
 302 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 on the boss. There's ould Finnegan up-endin' himself 
 to speak, and before he quits, bedambut it'll be closin' 
 toime." 
 
 A hurricane of cheering and laughter arose, and con- 
 tinued for several minutes. Mr. Normanby rose to his 
 feet and after bowing to the audience shook Michael 
 warmly by the hand. The manager could see that he 
 was trembling a little. 
 
 "Can he stand the excitement, Nora?" he asked 
 with anxiety. 
 
 " Dad's all right," answered Nora confidently. 
 " He's going to speak, though. He always shakes a 
 little before he starts. Look at his dear old face. 
 He's as proud as a peacock. You're a brick," she said 
 with a swift pressure of the manager's arm. '* It would 
 have been a sin to cheat him of his triumph. Listen." 
 
 She gazed up eagerly at her father, her lips parted, 
 love and admiration shining in her eyes. The manager 
 was looking at her, and for all he cared at the moment 
 every manuscript of Horace might have been burnt at 
 Alexandria. 
 
 " Mr. Chairman, Miss Nora," Mr. Normanby bowed 
 to his daughter with a little tender smile, " and Gen- 
 tlemen, I should be ungrateful if I did not feel my 
 old heart warmed to-night. Out of the bounty that 
 Providence has lately bestowed on me " a swift pity- 
 ing glance transformed Nora's face " I had hoped 
 to assist you in your praiseworthy enterprise. I 
 should have esteemed it a privilege to be allowed to do 
 so. But I am proud and happy to waive the privilege. 
 For you have done a great thing, my dear friends and 
 neighbors. You have learned the lesson of self-help 
 and unity. I see around me here men of all creeds 
 and classes united in a common enterprise for the good 
 of our country, and succeeding without aid from Gov- 
 ernment or or plutocrat " he smiled whimsically 
 *' and I augur much from this beginning.
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 303 
 
 **It is true you have refused my offer; but in the 
 glorious circumstances that accompany your refusal, I 
 have concluded to lay aside my natural indignation." 
 A little ripple of laughter answered his expectant look. 
 " And to show you that I bear no malice, I will ask a 
 favor of you all. I am told that the Railway Company 
 are so shortsighted as not to see even yet that they 
 should continue their line hither. And I am told also 
 that like the high-spirited and independent men I have 
 always known you to be, you are going to defy this 
 mighty Railway Company and to build a pier." 
 
 (" Oh, my heavens! " said the manager.) 
 
 " Towards the building of that pier I will subscribe 
 the sum of ten thousand pounds that I promised to the 
 woolen factory." 
 
 The cheering was still going on as Miss Nora and the 
 manager came out on the landing. The manager looked 
 at her with eyebrows uplifted in comical despair. 
 
 " Don't look at me ; please, don't look at me," she 
 said, a little hysterically. " If you do I'll begin to 
 laugh; and if I laugh, I know I'll cry. You'd better 
 give us up, Mr. Wildridge " with forlorn resigna- 
 tion " we're hopeless. Oh," she said wrathfully, " I 
 do love my Dad as much as any girl in the world; but 
 can't he be an old idiot when he likes." 
 
 " Nora, my child," said the manager in mock se- 
 verity, " am I in charge of this party still or am I not ? 
 And if so, will you continue to obey orders? " 
 
 " Right-oh," answered Miss Nora meekly. " I'll do 
 whatever you say." 
 
 " That's the girl," said the manager. " Well, then, 
 would you mind contemplating the statuesque beauty 
 of my classical features in repose while I meditate for 
 about two minutes ? " 
 
 Nora nodded in silence. 
 
 *' I have it, Nora," cried the manager in high excite- 
 ment ; " by Jove, I have it ! " He whipped a notebook
 
 304. MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 and pencil out of his pocket. " Wait till I draft a let- 
 ter. If I've got your father out of one hole, he's got 
 me out of another." He scribbled rapidly for a mo- 
 ment or two. " Listen, Nora." 
 
 " THE SECRETARY OF THE ULJDIAN RAILWAY Co. 
 
 " DEAR SIR, Following my wire of to-day advising 
 you that share capital of Woolen Factory is oversub- 
 scribed, I beg to say that the proposal to build a pier 
 and establish a steamboat service from Belfast has now 
 taken shape, and that Rev. Mr. Normanby has prom- 
 ised ten thousand pounds to the venture, which practi- 
 cally assures its success. 
 
 " If the Railway comes in I believe I can still stop the 
 pier ; but wire me result of to-morrow's meeting at earli- 
 est possible moment." 
 
 " Wait now, Nora, till I write the telegram." 
 
 " You're a divil, Mr. Wildridge," said the voice of 
 the blacksmith from behind him ; " by the hokey, you're 
 a divil. That'll fetch them ; I think that'll fetch them." 
 
 " Of course it'll fetch them, Denis," cried Miss Nora, 
 skipping round the landing like a mad thing. " And 
 if I can only get Dad safely home and locked up he's 
 saved once more. Oh, Denis, you old black-faced angel, 
 I could hug you." 
 
 She caught the blacksmith by one horny hand and 
 swung him round her at arm's length. 
 
 " Easy, Miss Nora, for the love of goodness," cried 
 Denis in alarm. " You'll have me down the stairs ! " 
 
 " Send for a top hat quick, Denis," said the manager 
 wickedly ; " Miss Normanby is excited. And, by 
 George, I'll have a shot at it too. Listen, children," 
 continued the manager, " I don't mind admitting it now 
 that our rascality has prospered; but I've felt very 
 guilty over this flotation. We've set the whole neigh- 
 borhood by the ears, and induced scores of decent peo-
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 305 
 
 pie to risk their money in the concern that had no no- 
 tion of doing it." 
 
 " It's a God's charity," said the blacksmith ; " they're 
 a hungry pack about here, anyway. And it has been 
 the best bit of sport I've had these ten years. If it 
 wasn't for Miss Nora I wish we could go on with the 
 pier." 
 
 " You're a wicked old conspirator, Denis," said the 
 manager sanctimoniously. " But although you did lead 
 me astray once, I have since seen the error of my 
 ways. And now, Nora, it's as good as certain that the 
 Railway Company will come in " 
 
 " They'll come in as sure as there's an eye in a goat," 
 interposed the blacksmith. 
 
 " And in any case Denis has decided that he won't 
 support a pier, which settles that question. So go 
 home and make your mind easy. About two or three 
 o'clock to-morrow I'll send you the secretary's wire, 
 and I think the sooner after that you break the news of 
 the vanished fortune to your father the better. I'd do 
 it for you, Nora ; but I think your father would feel it 
 less if he thought the circumstances were only known 
 to you and himself. All he need say to the public is 
 that he was misled by a foreign agent." 
 
 " And I'll give out in the town that it was that mon- 
 key-faced wee foreigner was here in the spring has run 
 away with the whole lot," added Denis. 
 
 " If your conscience, Denis and I have little doubt 
 of it," said the manager gravely, " will permit you, 
 it might do no harm. And for a last instruction, Nora, 
 since I'm still in command: you will receive to-morrow 
 in time to take the edge off your father's bad news, a 
 provisional offer from the Directors of the factory of 
 three thousand pounds for the site and buildings that 
 Mr. de Bullevant has so kindly confirmed the title of; 
 and I advise your father to accept it. 
 
 " I think that's all, Nora," concluded the manager.
 
 306 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 " You will now please," he stepped behind her and laid 
 a hand on each shoulder, " make a very nice curtsy to 
 Mr. O'Flaherty, who has incurred not a day less than 
 ten extra years of purgatory on your behalf very 
 nice indeed and then like a good child you will return 
 and look after the welfare of your aged parent." He 
 opened the door with one hand, pressing her almost im- 
 perceptibly to him with the other. " Good-by, big 
 girl," he whispered, and pushed her gently into the 
 room. 
 
 " Denis," said the manager, as he shut the door, " I 
 observe that our friend Mr. Finnegan is at present la- 
 boring at the foundations of the pier that we have just 
 blown to smithereens. I think we'll not go in." 
 
 " We won't," said Denis. " It was that drove me 
 out. She's a very fine girl, Miss Nora," he observed 
 as they descended the stairs. 
 
 " She's a very fine girl indeed, Denis," answered the 
 manager brightly. 
 
 " I noticed that she didn't thank you there now, Mr. 
 Wildridge," said Denis in a meditative way ; " but if she 
 didn't she gave you a very nice kind of a look." 
 
 " Did she, Denis ? " said the manager, " I never ob- 
 served it." 
 
 " They had it goin' in this town," went on Denis, 
 " that Mr. Jackson was for marryin' Miss Nora." 
 
 " I heard something of it," answered the manager. 
 
 " They're wrong then," said Denis. " It's Mrs. 
 Woodburn's daughter he's after now. He's been sneak- 
 ing after her this good while. That was where he was 
 when he should have been huntin' up shares. I seen him 
 on the shore last night kissin' her ; and there come a ring 
 through the post for him the day before yesterday. 
 She's not wearin' it yet; but there's a piece of ribbon 
 round her neck these last two days, and I wouldn't 
 wonder but the ring's at the end of it. The mother 
 wouldn't want her to have anything to do with a bank
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 307 
 
 clerk ; so I suppose the pair of them'll hold out till the 
 young one comes into her uncle's money." 
 
 " The d d young villain," exclaimed the manager, 
 
 roused out of his impassiveness, as a hitherto unac- 
 knowledged cloud of misgiving rose from his mind, " and 
 so that's where he's been all these nights. He never 
 gave me even a hint of it, Denis." 
 
 "Maybe he didn't like to give in he'd changed his 
 mind so sudden," said Denis. " And he wasn't too well 
 satisfied over what he'd done in the way of gettin' in 
 shares." 
 
 " Denis," said the manager, " you didn't happen to 
 hear any talk about me in the town? " 
 
 " Divil a word," answered Denis ; " except that it was 
 a wonder you be seen lowerin' yourself walkin' about 
 with a blacksmith." 
 
 The manager laughed heartily. 
 
 " I'll chance that, Denis," he said, clapping the black- 
 smith on the shoulder. " Do you really think, Denis," 
 he went on with an air of abstraction, " that my rascal 
 of a cashier has deserted Miss Nora for Miss Wood- 
 burn?" 
 
 " There's no mortal manner of doubt about it," an- 
 swered the blacksmith. " An' Miss Nora's not losin' 
 much flesh over it, as you might notice. Maybe she has 
 a better man in her eye." 
 
 The manager walked to the end of the street before 
 he spoke. 
 
 " Denis," he said at length. " Did you ever hear of 
 the ancient Germans ? " 
 
 "Do you mean the Prooshians, Mr. Wildridge?" 
 asked the blacksmith. " Or was it before their time ? " 
 
 " It was some hundreds of years before," said the 
 manager. 
 
 " Oh, then they were good men," said the blacksmith. 
 " All the ould fellows ye read about in them days was 
 good men, especially in the country you're standin' in.
 
 308 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 Or anyway they were good liars about themselves ; an* 
 that comes to very much the same thing, now that 
 there's nobody to contradict them." 
 
 " I've seen it expressed something in the same way by 
 an old friend of mine," said the manager. " But to go 
 on with what I intended to say: these old Germans, 
 when they were confronted by a difficult problem, had 
 an excellent rule of discussing it twice once drunk 
 and once sober " 
 
 " And I'd go bail ye they made no more mistakes than 
 their neighbors," put in the blacksmith. 
 
 " Now I've a trifling matter giving me some trouble 
 just at the moment," said the manager; " and assuming 
 that the railway business settles itself to-morrow, I 
 thought of trying the first part of the old German plan 
 over a glass of wine in the evening. And seeing that 
 drinking alone is dull work, maybe, Denis, you would 
 drop in about seven o'clock." 
 
 "Was it wine, you said, Mr. Wildridge? " inquired 
 the blacksmith without any great show of enthusiasm. 
 
 *' If you think you could meditate better on whisky, 
 Denis," said the manager, " I have still some of 
 Michael's case left." 
 
 " If you hear anybody batterin' at the Bank door 
 about seven o'clock to-morrow night," said the black- 
 smith, " it'll be me. Good-by to ye now, sir. I just 
 want to dander round by the forge before I go on to the 
 Hotel. It's a pity you have a position to keep up, Mr. 
 Wildridge; for there'll be big crack in Michael's this 
 night."
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV 
 
 THE manager pushed his chair a little back from 
 the dining-table, poured out a glass of spar- 
 kling wine, and held it up to the light. 
 
 " It's only gooseberry, my dear Anthony," he said. 
 " At the price, it couldn't be anything else ; but it will 
 serve. And even if it is only gooseberry, by Jove, I'll 
 have a cigar with it." 
 
 He carried the bottle and glass over to a small table 
 by the fireplace, threw himself back in an arm-chair, and 
 drew half a dozen luxurious puffs. 
 
 " Now, Anthony, my son," he meditated within him- 
 self, " let us reason together ; and first of all from the 
 purely selfish point of view. Here, simply on account 
 of a pair of blue eyes, for a matter of several weeks you 
 have plunged yourself into a whirlpool of effort and 
 worry and anxiety ; you have neglected your business ; 
 and have aroused animosities that will hardly die down 
 in your time. But you have been successful. The 
 company is floated, and the railway is coming, which 
 makes the prosperity of the factory almost certain. 
 And now that your troubles are over, and sweet peace 
 has come again, are you going to be fool enough to 
 commit yourself to the thousand irritations of matri- 
 mony ? Oh, I know ; I hear the inward advocatus matri- 
 monii controverting that view of the estate. But what 
 do the authorities say? Remember old La Rochefou- 
 cauld: ' He may count himself a lucky man who is only 
 once a day sorry that he took unto himself a wife.' 
 Where's the book ? " The manager wandered up and 
 down before his shelves. " And begad," he cried in a 
 
 309
 
 310 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 pet, " he's a happy man that hasn't occasion to com- 
 plain ten times a day that he has a meddling old house- 
 keeper who will keep shifting the position of his books, 
 for all he can say. A fig for La Rochefoucauld. 
 
 " Let's try Sir Thomas : * I was never yet once, and 
 commend their resolutions who never marry twice.' He 
 married all the same, and the old hypocrite " the 
 manager read down the paragraph, smiling " begat 
 sons and daughters. Here's old Fuller should have 
 something wise to say : ' Deceive not thyself by over 
 expecting happiness in the married estate ' ah, now, 
 this is germane to the matter. ' Look not therein for 
 contentment greater than God will give, or a creature in 
 this world can receive, namely, to be free from all incon- 
 veniences. Marriage is not like the hill Olympus, wholly 
 clear without clouds ; yea, expect both wind and storm 
 sometimes, which when blown over, the air is clearer and 
 wholesomer for it.' Yea, verily, my dear old worthy; 
 but in the meantime your top hat has suffered disaster, 
 and will never be the same hat again. ' Let there be 
 no great disproportion in age.' . Ha, my friend ; where's 
 the antidote to that ? 'I wish to all married people the 
 outward happiness which (anno 1605) happened to a 
 couple in the city of Delpht, in Holland, living most lov- 
 ingly together seventy-five years in wedlock, till the man 
 being one hundred and three, the woman ninety-nine 
 years of age, died within three hours each of other, and 
 were buried in the same grave.' 
 
 " Come, that's better, except for that nasty little flick 
 ' outward.' As time went on the situation would im- 
 prove. Let me see: Nora would be eighty-four then, 
 and there'd be nothing in it at all. Yes, that would 
 do when I was a hundred and three. What about when 
 I'm thirty-eight? We must look further into the mat- 
 ter, Anthony. Here, you old ruffian " the manager 
 reached down a tall folio. " ' Yea, but,' said Panurge, 
 ' I shall never by any other means come to have lawful
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 311 
 
 sons and daughters, in whom I may harbor some hope 
 of perpetuating my name and arms, and to whom I may 
 leave and bequeath my inheritance ' as like as not 
 from an uncle," said the manager " * and purchased 
 goods, that so I may cheer up and make merry when 
 otherwise I should be plunged in a peevish mood of pen- 
 sive sullenness. . . . For being free of debt, and yet 
 not married, if casually I should fret or be angry' 
 say over a woolen factory," interjected the manager 
 " ' I am afraid, instead of consolation, that I should 
 meet with nothing else but scuffs, frumps, gibes, and 
 mocks at my misadventure.' 
 
 "And if I had muddled the flotation, and been de- 
 tected and kicked out of the town, and maybe out of the 
 Bank, I wonder who would really have sympathized 
 with me, except Nora. I begin to perceive," said the 
 manager, pouring out another glass, " that this goose- 
 berry is likely to prove a one-sided advocate. Come in, 
 Jane. Yes, you may clear. 
 
 " A happy notion," thought the manager suddenly ; 
 " I'll consult the Sybil. She's sure to be against it. 
 But I'd better wait till she sets down that trayful of 
 dishes. 
 
 " Jane," he said, " would it surprise you to hear that 
 I was thinking it was time I was married? " 
 
 But Jane hadn't been going about the town all day 
 with her ears closed; and bowed in the house of Rim- 
 mon. 
 
 " Not a bit, Master Anthony," she returned com- 
 posedly, brushing up the crumbs. " What do you imag j 
 ine I bought the two pillows for your bed for, when 
 you were furnishing ? " 
 
 " There's a most damnable lack of reticence about a 
 widow," said the manager to himself testily. 
 
 " You should have been married years ago," went on 
 Jane, busying herself about the sideboard. " Your 
 father had his family near reared at your time of life."
 
 313 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 "Then you wouldn't object, Jane? " asked the man- 
 ager. 
 
 " Not a bit, Master Anthony," said Jane, opening 
 the door, " so long as you didn't fetch some old hussy 
 into the house that'd never have her neb out of the 
 kitchen. Marry some spunky young girl that won't 
 let you go on clockin' over them old books; and I'll 
 keep the house goin' while the pair of yez is out playin' 
 yourselves. Lord bless us, who's that batterin' at the 
 door?" 
 
 " I expect it's Denis O'Flaherty," answered the man- 
 ager, looking at his watch. 
 
 " An' it would put ye off the habit of keepin' low 
 company," said Jane with a sniff, as she went out bear- 
 ing the tray. 
 
 " H'm," said the manager to himself. " So Jane fol- 
 lows the gooseberry. If Denis is briefed on the same 
 side, I'm a ruined man. Come in, Denis ; you're not up 
 to time after all." 
 
 " I was kept back a bit in Michael's," answered the 
 blacksmith. " There's great stir on about poor ould 
 Mr. Normanby's misfortune, and we've been deliberatin' 
 a bit over it." 
 
 " In the ancient German fashion, I fancy," said the 
 manager, looking critically at him. 
 
 " Well, yes," said the blacksmith ; *' as far as three 
 rounds of drinks went." 
 
 " And the result, Denis ? " 
 
 " There's great sympathy with the ould gentleman," 
 said the blacksmith ; " the real kind of sympathy, the 
 sort that costs money. Takin' into account that 'twas 
 his example set the thing on its legs, they're goin' to 
 offer him an extra two hundred for the site an' the 
 buildings." 
 
 " Upon my word, Denis," said the manager, " it's 
 generous of the Directors, unexpectedly generous. 
 We'll drink their health. Reach for the bottle."
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 313 
 
 ** I never knew the like of it before," said the black- 
 smith, helping himself extensively. " The sky must be 
 goin' to fall. And you'd never believe who proposed it. 
 Michael, by heavens ; Michael himself. An' that's not 
 all, either. There's a regular union of hearts over the 
 business. There's to be a torchlight procession of sym- 
 pathy up to the Rectory on Saturday night, composed 
 of all parties, and headed by the Orange band an' the 
 Hibernian band, playin' time about owin' to the Rever- 
 end gentleman not bein' in the best of health; an' to 
 save any friction they're to toss for who'll go first. The 
 like was never known in my time. As ould Finnegan 
 put it to me, * it's the lion, if I may so express it, lyin' 
 down with the lamb.' Ye needn't be worryin' yourself, 
 Mr. Wildridge, about the wee bit of ill-feelin' you an' 
 me raised, when it's dyin' down like this." 
 
 " I'm afraid by Sunday they'll be as bad as ever, 
 Denis," said the manager, " unless times are greatly 
 changed." 
 
 " I don't know," said the blacksmith, " I don't know. 
 There's some of them sayin' to-night that all the 
 farmers that has shares'll be bandin' together to keep 
 up the price of wool, and that the townsmen of all par- 
 ties should unite against them. I don't know what's 
 comin' over the world at all," continued the blacksmith 
 gloomily. " If this sort of thing goes on the politics of 
 this country'll be as dull as ditch-water. We'll be little 
 better than Englishmen." And Denis, appalled at the 
 prospect, took a long pull at his glass. " Oh, aye," he 
 said brightening, " an' I met Mr. Percy this afternoon, 
 headin' for the Rectory." 
 
 " Yes, Denis," said the manager with interest. 
 
 " Well, to save Miss Nora any trouble I told him the 
 sad news," said the blacksmith, twinkling a little. 
 " And I think maybe I saved him trouble too ; for he 
 turned and went home. Not that I would poke my nose 
 into anybody's business," said Denis, looking at the ceil-
 
 314 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 ing in an ostentatiously detached manner ; " but says I 
 to myself as I saw the tails of his coat, ' that's another 
 man down.' Tell me, did ye tackle Mr. Jackson yet 
 about that wee matter I told you of? " 
 
 " I did," said the manager, " this very day ; partly 
 out of sheer badness, and partly to distract my mind 
 till the secretary's wire came in." 
 
 " Well," asked the blacksmith, " an' was I right? " 
 
 " You were, Denis," answered the manager, " quite 
 right. My excellent and worthy cashier is engaged to 
 Miss Woodburn. Good luck to them both. Here, be- 
 gad, we'll drink their health." 
 
 " Mr. Wildridge," said the blacksmith, wiping his 
 mouth with a handful of very grimy cotton waste, 
 " that last one has just primed me to the point of ask- 
 ing ye a very ignorant question: Not namin' any 
 names at all, what's houldin' you back? " 
 
 The blacksmith leaned forward in his arm-chair, 
 propped his elbows on his knees, and regarded the man- 
 ager fixedly. 
 
 " Denis," returned the manager his flush may have 
 been caused either by the unexpected question or the 
 rapidly succeeding toasts " I will answer your query 
 in the Irish fashion, by putting another to you : What 
 is your opinion about matrimony ? " 
 
 " Ye might say, Mr. Wildridge," returned the black- 
 smith, after cogitating, " that I never had any particu- 
 lar opinion on the matter. I never got the chance. 
 The wife just fastened on me before I was old enough 
 for the razor to take a grip of my whiskers; an' I've 
 been in a kind of a dazed way about it ever since." 
 
 " Tell me now, Denis," asked the manager with the 
 air of a man who had made up his mind to a negative 
 answer, " have you found it a quiet, peaceful state ? " 
 
 "As long as the wife gets her own way," said the 
 blacksmith he compressed his lips and nodded slowly 
 " yes." 
 
 " It's an answer worthy of Delphos," said the man-
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 315 
 
 ager. " But suppose I wanted my own way. Suppose 
 I wanted to squat myself down by the fire of a winter's 
 night the way I can now, and do a little work, a transla- 
 tion from Horace, say. And, begad," cried the man- 
 ager, rising to his feet, " that reminds me : I've a new 
 one to read you. Wait a minute till I get it. Listen 
 now, Denis, I think this isn't too bad : 
 
 " I hate these parties in your Sunday Clothes, 
 With hair-oil, and a posy in your breast. 
 
 Don't waste your time boy, huntin' for a rose; 
 The plain old country way is still the best. 
 
 " And do not fash now, makin' me a show, 
 The duds I've on are good enough for me. 
 
 But dammit, yes, we'll shave before we go; 
 It's decent-looking when you're out for tea. 
 
 " You see, Denis : nihil allabores. Good Lord," he 
 ejaculated with sudden disgust, and began to pace the 
 room in agitation, " there I go. Wouldn't I be a 
 wicked old sinner to tie any young girl to me, and leave 
 her sitting at the fire in dullness and loneliness while I 
 buried myself in book-writing. And I'd do it, Denis, I 
 know I would. If she were as beautiful as the morning, 
 I'd do it. I'd be beating my brains for a translation 
 for placens uxor, and reviling her under my breath if 
 she interrupted me in the middle of it. Look at me just 
 now. A chance word put me in mind of Horace, and 
 in a moment everything else went out of my head." 
 
 " Ach, will ye hould your tongue," said Denis, who 
 was mellowing as the manager's whisky reenforced his 
 previous potations in Michael's. " You're only frettin' 
 yourself about nothin' at all. Sit down there " he 
 caught the manager by the coat " an' pay attention 
 to me. That's right. Now listen: At the time the 
 wife married me I had a most terrible notion of playin' 
 the melodeon. Clean taken up with it I was, an'
 
 316 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 thought a deal more of it than I did of the blacksmithin' 
 aye, or the marryin'. And, bedad," he smiled com- 
 placently, " I was the boy could handle it." 
 
 " Denis," said the manager, " you reveal new facets 
 of your character to me every day. But I would never 
 have suspected you of possessing the artistic tempera- 
 ment." 
 
 " An' what might that be now? " asked Denis, puzzled. 
 
 " The artistic temperament, Denis," said the manager 
 gravely, " might be defined as the possession of a taste 
 for working at anything but what you get your living 
 by." 
 
 " Well, no matter for that," said the blacksmith. 
 " As I was tellin' you, I got married. An' the first 
 twelve months I would sit of a night playin' the melo- 
 deon, an' practisin' wee twiddley bits for, mind you, 
 Mr. Wildridge, I could play the melodeon. Well, she 
 was that proud of me she'd sit all night on the far side 
 of the hearth, eggin' me on to play more troth, not 
 that I needed it." 
 
 " Yes, Denis ? " asked the manager ; for the black- 
 smith had seemingly come to a full stop. 
 
 " Well," said the blacksmith, " that went on for a 
 year." 
 
 " And then she tired of it," said the manager. 
 
 She did not," said the blacksmith. " That's where 
 you're entirely wrong." He chuckled in fatuous tri- 
 umph. " She had twins." 
 
 " Ha! " said the manager, and puffed out a train of 
 smoke pensively. 
 
 " Now ye might think that was the end of the melo- 
 deon," said the blacksmith. " Aye. But it wasn't. It 
 was just the other way round. If I wanted her of an 
 evenin' to sit down for a crack it was * Wait a while, 
 Denis, till the childer is settled,' or * Hold on till I get 
 their bits of clothes washed. Take the melodeon there, 
 it'll keep ye from thinkin' long till I'm done.' But she
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 317, 
 
 was never done. I might have played till there was 
 corns on my fingers for all she cared. Do you hear me 
 now ? " said the blacksmith, shaking his head with in- 
 tense seriousness ; " before six months I was angry at 
 the melodeon. Now maybe you think I'm bletherin' full, 
 an' talkin' nonsense ; but if you have the sense to take it 
 up an' as far as I can see you're the boy has his head 
 screwed on there's a kind of a parable in all I've 
 been tellin' ye. An' you'd be better off than I was ; for 
 I had to go out to the hen-house many a night, an' your, 
 writin' makes no noise." 
 
 " Denis," said the manager, " the sound of your voice 
 is as the pouring out of oil. I never laid out a drop of 
 whisky to better advantage. But there's just one other 
 point I'd like to hear you about. Your wife is older 
 than you. Doesn't that make a difference? '* 
 
 " She was exactly two years older than me when we 
 were married," said the blacksmith, " ex-actly. An' 
 she's that still, though ye daren't say it. An' that's 
 where ye have me again. Listen, now, Mr. Wildridge. 
 I'm fifty-four, yes, fifty-four." He looked with a seri- 
 ous air into the fireplace. " But I've young notions," 
 he said, brightening up. " Do you think if she was 
 only thirty-five I'd be in any the less hurry home the 
 night? Mr. Wildridge," he said, laying a huge paw on 
 the manager's knee, and leaning heavily on it, " I'm not 
 an ignorant man, an' I've named no names the night; 
 but if you let the like of herself slip through your fingers 
 the back of my hand to ye." He pushed the man- 
 ager's knee sharply away, and subsided into the arm- 
 chair. " An' more," he said, sitting up. " Ye could 
 have her. Ye could. I know somethin' about weemin ; 
 not as much as I know about horses, but still a good 
 deal; an' ye could have her by liftin' your wee finger. 
 An' look here, again," he said, shaking the manager's 
 hand till the fingers cracked, " I wish she may never get 
 vrorse. Now," he pushed himself to his feet, "I'll go
 
 318 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 home. For my head is singin' like a telegraph wire." 
 
 " What a miserable, self-torturing, introspective, 
 hesitating, morbid creature you are, Anthony," said the 
 manager to himself, coming back to his dining-room, 
 " confronted with the robust optimism of a man like 
 Denis. I wonder what the reason of it is? You have 
 more brains than he has, and a great deal more knowl- 
 edge, and you don't drink whisky. Begad, I know what 
 it is ; it's want of exercise. If you had been swinging a 
 sledge-hammer every day this last month you'd have 
 been engaged by now. Where are my dumb-bells? " 
 He unlocked the bottom drawer of a cupboard. " Come 
 on; you used to be able to put them up fifty times. 
 Here's a test of youth for you." For a few moments 
 there was nothing to be heard but the sound of heavy 
 breathing. " Forty-eight," gasped the manager, 
 " forty-nine fifty stick to it, Anthony ! fifty-one 
 fifty- " his arms trembled as he painfully heaved 
 them aloft "two !" The right-hand dumb-bell slipped 
 from his exhausted grasp and smashed the whisky de- 
 canter to atoms. 
 
 " I don't care a hang," said the manager recklessly, 
 " it's two better than I could do five years ago. An- 
 thony, my son, you're as young as ever you were; and 
 you can stand up before the whole sentimental earth and 
 acknowledge that for the first time in your selfish and 
 sophisticated career you're in love ! You to pot ! " he 
 cried, picking up his Horace and sending it spinning to 
 the corner of the room ; " you were making me old be- 
 fore my time. Ladies and gentlemen," he cried, bow- 
 ing to an imaginary audience " I give you with en- 
 thusiasm the health of the ancient Germans ! " 
 
 The manager dashed his glass furiously into the fen- 
 der, and went upstairs to bed, apparently in complete 
 forgetfulness of the second stage in the deliberations of 
 those admirable heathen.
 
 CHAPTER XXXV 
 
 BUT next morning it might have been noticed that 
 the manager did not as usual sing in his bath; 
 and a very disconsolate Anthony Wildridge 
 ascended from a bathroom to his bedroom. 
 
 When he arrived there he stood still in the middle of 
 the floor, raised his right hand slowly above his head 
 with a slight groan, then raised his left and groaned 
 again. Then he went over and sat on the side of his 
 bed, looking blankly at the opposite wall. 
 
 " Good Lord," he said slowly, " rheumatism rheu- 
 matism; the least romantic of all diseases, the unques- 
 tionable warning of old age. Embrocation, and don't 
 get your feet wet, and flannel." He shuddered. " And 
 you know what you quoted to Jackson not so long ago 
 about flannel. But that was jest, Anthony, my boy; 
 and this is earnest. And last night, flown with insolence 
 and gooseberry, in the company of that old son of 
 Belial, Denis, you thought you were as young as ever 
 you were. You old fool, you old fool," he uttered with 
 deliberate bitterness. He went over to the look- 
 ing-glass, and contemplated his careworn visage. 
 " Twenty-two hairs in the peninsula now, Anthony. 
 That's worrying yourself about woolen factories, and 
 blue eyes." The manager groaned again, dressed him- 
 self slowly, and descended heavily to breakfast. 
 
 The first thing that met his eyes was the discarded 
 Horace lying in a corner. He started into vigor at 
 once. " That old fool Jane," he cried furiously, and 
 crossed the room to pick the book up. " No," he said, 
 with sudden recollection, turning the leaves aimlessly, 
 
 319
 
 320 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 " that old fool Anthony. But where did I put my 
 translations ? Ah, there they are, where I left them last 
 night. Yes, Anthony; suppose the blacksmith's prog- 
 nostications had come true, and you had had time and 
 peace to scribble last night, where would your transla- 
 tions be now? Half-past eight and children, you 
 know, rise at some ungodly hour. By this time ' Vides 
 ut alta ' might have been flying at the tail of a kite. 
 You would face that, eh? Yes ; and she'd be well worth 
 it and more, Anthony ; you've come to that now, my boy. 
 But would you saddle that radiant young Artemis with 
 a bald-headed rheumatic old scribbler? " 
 
 The manager shook his head in answer to his own 
 question, and walking over to the window stood gloomily 
 looking out. 
 
 As he stood, there appeared at the upper end of the 
 street Miss Nora Normanby with a couple of terriers 
 jumping and frisking to her cracking fingers. Her 
 former careless joyousness had returned to her. But 
 for the quaint touch of dignity lent by the knotted hair 
 it might have been the old Nora, the terror and delight 
 of street urchins, who danced down the street but a few 
 weeks before. The manager's face cleared as he looked 
 at her from the shelter of a curtain. When she came 
 opposite the Bank she threw a sudden swift glance at 
 the first-floor windows. The manager thought she 
 blushed; and perhaps she did. But at least a certain 
 demure seriousness fell on her, and she passed out of 
 sight walking soberly as if in thought. 
 
 " Anthony," said the manager with quiet determina- 
 tion, " maybe you're deceiving yourself all this time, 
 maybe she doesn't want you at all, doesn't even think a 
 man of your age could be a possible lover. Maybe even 
 if she does you're too old, and it's wicked of you to ask 
 her. But young or old, rheumatism or no rheumatism, 
 you're going to risk it. 
 
 " Jane, Jane. Hurry up, quick ! " he shouted to his
 
 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 321 
 
 astonished housekeeper. He hastily ate a slice of toast, 
 gulped down some coffee, ran upstairs and brushed his 
 teeth for the second time that morning, dashed down 
 again, picked up an old hat, substituted a new one for 
 it, and went out with a bang of the hall door that 
 brought Jane to the office window to look after him. 
 
 As he emerged on the beach he saw Nora standing at 
 the water's edge gazing seaward. 
 
 " Hallo, Nora," he said, coming up behind her. 
 
 '* Hallo," said Nora. Her greeting showed no sur- 
 prise. 
 
 They stood side by side for a moment without speak- 
 ing. A fresh breeze blew inshore ; and as Nora swayed 
 against it she slipped a hand into the manager's arm. 
 The wind had risen with the dawning. Far out, the sea 
 heaved in great crestless billows of dull gray, streaked 
 with lines of white bubbles ; but close to the beach it rose 
 in long waves that curled slowly upward, hesitated a 
 moment, suddenly translucent in the morning sun, then 
 foamed and tumbled along the sand with a tumultuous 
 soft crash, and scattered diamonds broadcast. 
 
 Still not a word was spoken; but the manager was 
 conscious that Nora had drawn a little closer to him. 
 
 " Ah," she said at last softly, " I'm glad you love the 
 sea." 
 
 " Nora," said the manager, " if a foolish old fellow of 
 thirty-eight, with a bald head, and rheumatism in his 
 shoulders it is my painful duty in the present state 
 of my conscience to admit to both shoulders asked 
 you a certain question, what do you think you'd answer 
 him?" 
 
 " I don't think you're old," said Nora. 
 
 Her arm slipped a little farther into the manager's, 
 and her fingers, perhaps by accident, fell lightly on his. 
 A swift tingling, that was not rheumatism, coursed 
 through the manager's veins; and yet in that supreme
 
 322 MR. WILDRIDGE OF THE BANK 
 
 instant he recognized with half-comic despair a fleeting 
 pang for Horace and his vanishing liberty. 
 
 " Too old and too selfish for you, Nora girl," he said, 
 a little sadly. 
 
 " Do you remember that night in the Town Hall," 
 half whispered Nora, " and something I told you? " 
 
 The manager pressed her hand gently. 
 
 '* You were going to all the same, weren't you ? " she 
 breathed." And I'd I'd have let you." 
 
 Silence followed. In that first moment of confessed 
 tenderness a miraculous shy humility fell upon the 
 manager. He drew the girl towards him almost timidly. 
 
 And with the intuitive realization of the power of her 
 sex a gleam of the old impish gaiety danced in Nora's 
 eyes. She slipped deftly from the manager's arm, and 
 in a flash was a dozen yards away. Her soft laughter 
 sounded on his ears with a tantalizing sweetness. 
 
 " Oh, you silly," she mocked, " you silly. And now 
 you're too old, and have got rheumatism." 
 
 On the instant a blinding revelation was vouchsafed 
 the manager. 
 
 " Nora," he cried exultingly, " I'm an idiot. It was 
 the dumb-bells. It was the dumb-bells; and I've not 
 got rheumatism at all. Run, big sweetheart, run ! 
 Thirty yards start, and first to the bracken. It's on 
 my conscience to give you a last fling for your freedom." 
 
 " Oh, cheat, cheat," called Nora reproachfully as she 
 ran. " I've not had half my law." 
 
 And indeed, yards before Miss Normanby had re- 
 ceived the start allotted her, the manager was loping in 
 pursuit with the long steady stride of the practised run- 
 ner ; reckless of the aching muscles of the morrow ; sub- 
 consciously certain that he ought to lose the race; but 
 desperately determined on winning. 
 
 THE END

 
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