CHAPTER IV.

Waikato Times, Volume III, Issue 171, 12 June 1873, Page 2

CHAPTER IV.

Alack the heavy day, That I have worn 30 many winters out. The Hen Doctor stalked into the b-ink A3 soon as the door w.is opened. He rapped with his thick oak stick on the counter. ' Oood morning, doctor,' said the banker politely, coming Out of his office. ' Yuli ' a very bad nnrnmg, I think,' said the doctor savagely. 'I w ant my uiane^ — $ es. 1 ' Money, e!i ! All, we can't do without that. — Fdl up a clio pie for the doctor, JOIIII — What shall it be for?' John «iw busy pouring out showers of gold from canvas bfti?s. T.ie hanker was very civil to the doctor, because he hail a largo balance, lie had been selling a farm lately, and had paid the purchase money into the bank. ' How much have I qo u ? ' said the doctor, shortly. 1 John, wh it's the doctor's balance, eh ?■ — You're not going: to withdraw your confidence from v->, I hope, doctor?' ' Yah ! I never had any in you.' ' Ha, ha ! O doctor, how fond you are of a joke. — Well , John, how much ? ' ' Two five sixty-nine eight four,' said John. 'Two thousand five hundred and sixty-nine,' said the banker. — ' Now, John, sharp. — How much, doctor ? ' ' I want it all,' said the doctor 1 Leave fifty or so, doctor, to keep the account open ?—? — No? Well, indeed, ue're all short of money lometunes. — M ike out the cheque, John, quick. — Gold, of course? — Look sharp, John.' ' Why, of course 9 ' said the doctor. ' What do you want to t .ike the words out of my mouth for ? Perhaps I'll bws gold— perhaps I won't. Is it full weight ? ' " ' We can't guarantee that ; you must take it as it comes. ' But I'll have it full weight. Diaoul, it's my right. Isn't it my right now?' ' Indeed, you shall have full weight, eTery grain of it,' «aicl the bunker 111 a rage — ' John, put down the scales here. — Now, sit down sir — -it down and weigh them yourself: the time of the bank, sir, can't be wasted with these vagaries.' The old doctor sat down, wiped his spectacles, put them on ; took the scales, looked at them narrowly, as though he suspected there was some deception nbout them — then, with, slinking, fumbling fingers, he picked up coin after com and weighed it carefully. At the end of five minutes he had weighed ten "orerti^ns. 'How long will it take me ?' he said at last, looking up. ' Ha, ha, ha ! ' roared the banker and John in concert — ' Ha, ha, ha ! Five minutes by the clock, atxl ten sovereigns counted. It will take you two days and a half. You'll need your night-cap, doctor ; you can sleep under the counter —ha, ha, hu ! ' The doctor, with his hand, swept away the scales and gold. ' I won't do it,' said he — 'I won't take your gold p you must gne me something else.' IWe can't give you notes ; we can't spare 'em. — Can we John ? ' — John shook his head. ' But I'll have 'cm — I'll have notes if I want. You're bound to give 'em me ; it's my right - t isn't it ? ' • I don't think we are.' said the banker — 'I don't think we are. — Arc we, John ? ' ' I am afraid we are,' said John. ' Then I'll have 'cm — begad, I'll have 'em ! ' said thedoctor. ' Hand 'em over directly, or I'll stop the bank.' 'He must have 'em, John, if it's the law. — Take your money, doctor ; we've iiad quite enough of you ; we should never get through our business if we had many customerslike you.' John -writh alacrity lmnded over jevcr.il bundles of their own notes — worn and dirty notes, which had made many jou-neys among the hills and valley*. 1 Ah ! these are something like,' said the doctor, counting them over — 'nice dirty notes, that have been among '6peetable people, and must be good. — I think I'll take them home and count 'em.— Well, thank jou, Mr Eowlands; I think a good deal better of you than I did. Good bje.' When the 1 1 en Doctor had gone, John went off into a paroxysm of chuckles. Meantime, Arthur was sitting in his office, waiting for the post, in a state of almost ecstatic bhss. His dog-cart was at the door, ready to convey him and his sister Kate to L'anfechan ; tliere ho was to stay till the wedding came off j not at the Hector,), but at the Plas with Owen Meredith ; and Owen had written to him to say that his coverts on the hills were swarming with woodcock, and that the marshes of Gwemhefim were alive with wild-fowl; so that Arthur promised himself a most delightful time to be finished upby a tune still more delightful, of which lie couldn't think without a tremor of eager joy, w hen he should be the absolute possessor of Mary Roberts. He only waited for one thing— the post, which didn't reach the town till eleven, and was now nearly half-an-hour late. He didn't expect any communication of importance ; but ho would leave with a more perfectly easy mind, if he saw his letters before he went. Presently he heard the horn of the mail van, and in a few moments his clerk appeared with the office bag. ' Thank goodness ' there's hardly anything — " On Her Majesty's Sen ice." Ah, that's about stamps. Take that to John at thi> bank. Stop, though ; it's marked " Most urgent." What the deuce can be the matter ? ' Arthur turned pale as he read it — paid, and then crimson. He put on his hat, and ran over to the bank. ' What does this mean, father ? 'he said, flinging down the letter before old Evan, who was sitting in his little room, sorting out papers. The old banker took the letter and read it, and then looked up at his sou. ' It must be some mistake, Arthur.' 'Mistake' But look, what a disgrace to me; n?y drafts returned, for five thousand — for the money I paid in to you a week ago Father, it will kill me.' ' Don't be foolish, 1 said tho old man, his face calm and placid, but his hands shaking and trembling ; ' don't bo foolish, Arthur. It's a mistake of our London agents — must be. — John ! ' he shouted to the clerk — ' John, you advised that remittance to " Brown and Bostock" — that remittance of Arthur's, five thousand odds ? ' ' Of course, I did, sir," said John, coming m. ' There's been a mistake,' said the banker, getting up and shutting the door ; ' that's all. Arthur's draft is dishonoured.' > ' Dear me ! ' said John, looking scared. ' That's a bad job.' 1 Bad job ? Nonsense ! ' sad Evan angrily. ' It's a stupid mistake of Brown and Bostock's ' ' But what am I to do, father pI ' Leave it all to me, Arthur. Give me that letter. There j I'll see to it, Arthur. Don't give yourself a moment's uneasiness. I'll send a telegram to Brown and Bostock, and put the matter right, and you shall have au ample apology. Leave it to me. Arthur had been accustomed to leave things to his father, and had usually found his account in so doing. His father's confidence reassured him ; it could only be a mistake. ' You go on your way to Llanfechan, and see Mary Roberts ; and give her my love, and tell her I've sent her a littlo present,' said Evan, putting a small morocco case into J4IS son's hands ; ' and don't worry yourself at all about business . I'll «cc to all that Ljave it to me.' ' You see what they say in the letter, governor — without further delay.' ' I see, I see. Oh, I know how to deal with these official people. I'll see to it ray boy ; yes, yes, yes, without further delay.' Arthur presently drove over towards Llanfechan, but he was shaken and anxious. It was all right ho knew ; but he couldn't help worrying. When his son had gone, Rowlands turned to John, his fingers clenched, his eyes distorted. ' The cursed knaves ! I've dealt with them for forty year* ; I've had hundreds of thousands in their hands, and they dishonour mo now for a few paltry thousands. What's the meaning of it ? John, what aoos it mean 9 ' ' Well, indeed, you knew you were overdrawn, Mr Rowlands, bach .' ' ' I couldn't lmve been ; and if I were, they hold ample security; and you specially ach lsed them that remittance was to meet Arthur's drafts. Confound 'em ! I'll bring an action against them.' ' Is there tune for that p> remarked John, doubtfully. After Arthur had started on his visit, old Evan walked up nnd down his room, holding his head between his hands. No; he wouldn't do it ; he would hold on to the bank at all hazards. That gone, all would be lost. Kate nnd Wmny — what, would become of them? The whole country -side would be ruined by his> failure ; farmers would lose their hoards, traders would come to a stop, and the poor would lose their bread. No ; the bank must be saved, even at tho risk of Arthur's character. But surely thcro was some way out of it ; surely he could delay aud temporise with theseofficial people, write nnd bay that his son ' had duly pro\uled for hi* drafts, but that by soino mistake at his agents', who lal not recognised tho signature, they had Seen refused ; ' request a little delay for inquiry. Yes, that would do ; these public departments rarely a ted with much vigour atflisf He could surely gain time to realise enough to tide linn over his immediate difficulties. Jn-t as lie commenced his letter to the Board of Stamps, John appeared 111 the doorwuj. ' Rend tin's, master.' It was a telegram, which a man on horseback had ju>t brought over from Llanbclic junction.

London' —From a friend to John Jones, tf the bank, Ahrrhfi-nn;/. — Itohrtsoi), ta'l fair, moustuch?, light orercoai, hft W.R. this afternoon to orer'aul A It's footprints Look out. ' What docs it moan ? Who's it from ? It's uouscuso 1 Footprints ? What rubbish is tins ? '

• Suppose it means stamps, eh ? Supposo it's from my friend Robert Morris, the son of the Popty, vbos a uieMOiiger at Waterloo House.' John ran forward to hi* master, whose head had sunk upon "Mo table. He thought lie was in ft fit ; but horecote-cd himself in a moment, and looked hnzil.v at his clerk. 'What were ««.• raying, John?' he wnt on. 'About Arthur's wedding, wasn't it > You're quite aim- you ordered the bouquet from Shwwsbury-tlio most beautiful that money cou'd btv ? It's for the hr.de ; and Arthur mu,t do the thing well, you Inovi , and Ims been n good lad, you know, John and de<erV, 8 Good God. he shr eked, getting up and c'utchng John's arm as the outer door opened with a great scroop— ' Hat he come?' ' S'»h ! dear ! Mr Rowlands, bach ! S »h. ' Ah, it's only Misi Winny.' ' Yes, papa, I've come to take you out for a drive ; you get soworr'u-d over these account*," papa, that jou're looking j quite ill. ItS a beautiful warm day. Let the poor people , alone, papa, who owe you mum-} —they'll pay in the end; let them alone, ami com." with me for a driva along the tands. After the -torni, the air is heavenly. j