Part 85

About an hour later old lady Bingham burst upon the banker, wild and breathless. "I want my money," she announced.

"Good-morning, Mrs. Bingham. Pleasant--"

"I want my money. Where's Lincoln?"

She had read that morning of two bank failures--one in Nova Scotia and one in Massachusetts--and they seemed providential warnings to her. Lincoln's absence confirmed them.

"He's gone to St. Paul--won't be back till the five-o'clock train. Do you need some money this morning? How much?"

"All of it, sir. Every cent."

Sanford saw something was out of gear. He tried to explain. "I've sent your son to St. Paul after some money--"

"Where's my money? What have you done with that?" In her excitement she thought of her money just as she hand handed it in--silver and little rolls and wads of bills.

"If you'll let me explain--"

"I don't want you to explain nawthin'. Jest hand me out my money."

Two or three loafers, seeing her gesticulate, stopped on the walk outside and looked in at the door. Sanford was annoyed, but he remained calm and persuasive. He saw that something had caused a panic in the good, simple old woman. He wished for Lincoln as one wishes for a policeman sometimes.

"Now, Mrs. Bingham, if you'll only wait till Lincoln--"

"I don't want 'o wait. I want my money, right now."

"Will fifty dollars do?"

"No, sir; I want it all--every cent of it--jest as it was."

"But I can't do that. Your money is gone--"

"Gone? Where is it gone? What have you done with it? You thief--"

"'Sh!" He tried to quiet her. "I mean I can't give you your money--"

"Why can't you?" she stormed, trotting nervously on her feet as she stood there.

"Because--if you'd let me explain--we don't keep the money just as it comes to us. We pay it out, and take in other--"

Mrs. Bingham was getting more and more bewildered. She now had only one clear idea--she couldn't get her money. Her voice grew tearful like an angry child's.

"I want my money--I knew you'd steal it--that I worked for. Give me my money."

Sanford hastily handed her some money. "Here's fifty dollars. You can have the rest when--"

The old lady clutched the money, and literally ran out of the door, and went off up the sidewalk, talking incoherently. To every one she met she told her story; but the men smiled and passed on. They had heard her predictions of calamity before.

But Mrs. McIlvaine was made a trifle uneasy by it. "He wouldn't give you y'r money? Or did he say he couldn't?" she inquired, in her moderate way.

"He couldn't, an' he wouldn't!" she said. "If you've got any money there, you'd better get it out quick. It ain't safe a minute. When Lincoln comes home I'm goin' to see if I can't--"

"Well, I was calc'latin' to go to Lumberville this week, anyway, to buy a carpet and a chamber set. I guess I might 's well get the money to-day."

When she came in and demanded the money, Sanford was scared. Were these two old women the beginning of the deluge? Would McPhail insist on being paid also? There was just one hundred dollars left in the bank, together with a little silver. With rare strategy he smiled.