inute, before the bank at Norton Bury. It included all classes, from
the stout farmer's wife or market-woman, to the pale, frightened lady
of "limited income," who had never been in such a throng before; from
the aproned mechanic to the gentleman who sat in his carriage at the
street corner, confident that whatever poor chance there was, his would
be the best.

Everybody was, as I have said, extremely quiet. You heard none of the
jokes that always rise in and circulate through a crowd; none of the
loud outcries of a mob. All were intent on themselves and their own
business; on that fast-bolted red-baize door, and on the green blind of
the windows, which informed them that it was "open from ten till four."

The Abbey clock struck three quarters. Then there was a slight
stirring, a rustling here and there of paper, as some one drew out and
examined his bank notes; openly, with small fear of theft--they were
not worth stealing.

John and I, a little way off, stood looking on, where we had once
watched a far different crowd; for Mr. Jessop owned the doctor's former
house, and in sight of the green bank blinds were my dear old father's
known windows.

Guy's birthday had fallen on a Saturday. This was Monday morning. We
had driven over to Norton Bury, John and I, at an unusually early hour.
He did not exactly tell me why, but it was not difficult to guess. Not
difficult to perceive how strongly he was interested, even affected--as
any man, knowing all the circumstances, could not but be affected--by
the sight of that crowd, all the sadder for its being such a patient,
decent, respectable crowd, out of which so large a proportion was women.

I noticed this latter fact to John.

"Yes, I was sure it would be so. Jessop's bank has such a number of
small depositors and issues so many small notes. He cannot cash above
half of them without some notice. If there comes a run, he may have to
stop payment this very day; and then, how wide the misery would spread
among the poor, God knows."

His eye wandered pitifully over the heaving mass of anxious faces blue
with cold, and growing more and more despondent as every minute they
turned with a common impulse from the closed bank door to the Abbey
clock, glittering far up in the sunshiny atmosphere of morning.

Its finger touched the one heel of the great striding X--glided on to
the other--the ten strokes fell leisurely and regularly upon the clear
frosty air; then the c