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Updated: June 4, 2025
I turned, and walked a few paces toward the door, and then walked back again. "I'd like to get a room," said I. The man got up slowly, and going to a desk, fumbled about it for a while. At length he brought out an old, dilapidated bank-book, and throwing it open on the counter, asked me, with an indifferent manner, to write down my name. "I'll take a pen, if you please." "Oh, yes!"
And if he don't, you should worry! I tell you there ain't one of 'em breathes is worth more than his bank-book." "God! my head!" The figure on all-fours rose to full height, drying each forearm on her apron. "Lay down, dearie, and just don't you worry.
Shaking at that quiet form, sobs that were full of voice, tearing raw from her throat, she fell to kissing the sunken face, enclosing it, stroking it, holding her streaming gaze closely and burningly against the closed lids. "Mamma, I swear to God I'll take you! Answer me, mamma! The bank-book you've got it! Why don't you wake up mamma? Help!"
"So I did," said Dick. "But it's gone now. Somebody opened it with a key that fitted the lock, and then locked it ag'in." "That must have been the way." "It's rather hard on a feller," said Dick, who, for the first time since we became acquainted with him, began to feel down-hearted. "Don't give it up, Dick. You haven't lost the money, only the bank-book." "Aint that the same thing?" "No.
He greeted him kindly, and pulled a chair close, so that David might sit beside him. He listened sympathizingly to his cares, and looked mournfully into the unhappy face so dear to him; then he took his bank-book and wrote out a check for double the amount asked. The young man was astonished; the tears sprang to his eyes, and he said, "Uncle, this is very good of you.
"Nearly a quarter of a million!" the old accountant faltered. "Where's the bank-book?" cried Ferris, his presence of mind returning. "Clayton has it," the bookkeeper sadly said. Opening a door, Arthur Ferris called in the treasurer. Frank Bell, jolly and debonnair, had just returned from "no end of a good time." "Look out for Somers, here," he ordered. "There's been a great disaster.
Tell her I'll take her back. Wake her up, Mr. Haas! Tell her I'm a bad girl, but I I'm going to take her back. Now! Tell her! Tell her, Mr. Haas, I've got the bank-book. Please! Please! O my God!" He turned to her, his face working to keep down compassion. "We must get a doctor, little lady." She threw out an arm. "No! No! I see!
Is that the way to act when Shila comes up after a good day? Ain't we got just lots to be thankful for, the business growing and the bank-book growing, and our Selene on top? Shame on mamma!" "I got a heaviness here inside here." Mrs. Coblenz reached up for the old hand, patting it. "It's nothing, mamma a little nervousness." "I'm an old woman.
She is for the scene of 'Chillon John's' attempt to restore the respiration of his bank-book by wager; to wit, that he would walk a mile, run a mile, ride a mile, and jump ten hurdles, then score five rifle- shots at a three hundred yards' distant target within a count of minutes; twenty-five, she says; and vows it to have been one of the most exciting of scenes ever witnessed on green turf in the land of wagers; and that he was accomplishing it quite certainly when, at the first of the hurdles, a treacherous unfolding and waving of a white flag caused his horse to swerve and the loss of one minute, seven and twenty seconds, before he cleared the hurdles; after which, he had to fire his shots hurriedly, and the last counted blank, for being outside the circle of the stated time.
Is that the way to act when Shila comes up after a good day? 'Ain't we got just lots to be thankful for the business growing and the bank-book growing, and our Selene on top? Shame on mama!" "I got a heaviness here inside here." Mrs. Coblenz reached up for the old hand, patting it. "It's nothing, mama a little nervousness." "I'm an old woman.
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