heights justifiable only to the most insane optimism, so did the
subsequent depression bear down upon values until they reached depths
justifiable only to the most abandoned despondency. Building
operations came to a standstill. Carpenters, masons, brick-layers,
painters, plumbers, labourers found themselves out of employment. As,
in most instances, they had lived to the extent of their income in the
prosperous period, or had invested their surpluses in the all-alluring
real estate, they were promptly confronted with the necessity of
finding work; if not at home, elsewhere. Their exodus left vacant
houses; the reduced volume of trade necessary for a smaller and more
frugal population was speedily reflected in empty shops and office
buildings. With houses, shops, and office buildings empty or rented at
prices which did not pay interest on the investment there was no
inducement to build more houses, shops, or office buildings. With no
inducement to build houses, shops, or office buildings there was no
demand for vacant lots. With no demand for vacant lots, no value
attached to them. The rosy bubble, inflated with the vapours of
irresponsible speculation, had dissolved in thin air.
It could not be called a collapse. There was no panic, no crash.
There was no wild rush to sell. One cannot sell without buyers, and
there were no buyers. A certain latent optimism, justified in part by
the undeniable natural advantages of the city, kept the flame of hope
alive in the hearts of investors, or, perhaps, suffered it to be
gradually diminished rather than extinguished by one icy blast of
despair.
Mrs. Hardy was among the last to admit that she had bought on an ebbing
tide. She contended that her house was well worth the price she had
paid; what if speculation had come to a stop? So much the better; her
house was still worth its price. She would stand firm. It was not
until the Metfords, whose ostentation had brought them before her
notice, attempted to sell their home at a tremendous sacrifice, and had
found it impossible to get an offer, that Mrs. Hardy began seriously to
consider her predicament. Mrs. Metford had sold the car and discharged
the "chiffonier," and Mr. Metford had returned to his ancient and
honourable calling of coal freighter.
Mrs. Hardy consulted Conward. It had grown to be her habit to consult
Conward on all matters in which she found an interest. Conward had
gone out of his way to make
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