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Updated: May 12, 2025
Lyman shook hands with Uncle Buckley, and then went across the street to the First National Bank, the financial pride of Old Ebenezer. The low brick building stood as a dollar mark, to be stared at by farmers who had heard of the great piles of gold heaped therein, and James McElwin, as with quick and important step he passed along the street, was gazed upon with an intentness almost religious.
I will tell your daughter." McElwin started. His mind had been so directly fixed upon the public that he had not thought of his home. Being the master there he could command respect, and it was on the tip of his tongue now to say that his daughter would not believe Lyman, but, as if a bitter taste had suddenly arisen in his mouth, he felt that this man's word out-weighed his own.
Sawyer blinked in the glare of this dazzling statement, but he managed to smile and then to proceed: "I spoke to Mr. McElwin about what had been hinted, and inasmuch as you had applied to him for a loan, he didn't know but it was the truth." "A very natural conclusion on his part," said Lyman, leaning back and crossing his feet on a corner of the table. "Yes, he thought so, and I did, too.
The boy came in to tell him that at five o'clock he had helped Warren on the road to be married, and that he had left strict instructions that Lyman should be told not to forget the supper at the cottage. The boy went out and Lyman stood at the window, looking across at the bank. Presently he saw McElwin bow with dignity to a man whom he met in front of the door and then enter the place.
McElwin looked at him with a start, as if his words hurt her, as if she suddenly felt that she was doing a grave injustice to her husband to sit there talking to a man who would not have been permitted to cross her threshold. She got up. "We must go," she said. "Oh, not now," the daughter pleaded. "Yes, we must go." "But can't you let me stay and come home with Mr. Lyman."
McElwin, I ought to publish you I ought to tell your wife and daughter that you have conspired with ruffians to have me whipped from the town, but I will not. You may go now." The banker's arrogance flew back to him. "You may go" were words that pierced him like a three-pronged fork, but he controlled himself, for now his judgment was stronger than his dignity.
His wife sat near the window, watching the swallows cutting black circles in the dusky air. Eva was seated at the piano, half turned from it, while with one hand she felt about to touch the nerve of some half-forgotten tune. McElwin dropped down in an arm chair. "I wonder if this newspaper will ever stop talking about that fellow's story," said he.
Eva laughed; the idea struck her as being so humorously true, and Mrs. McElwin smiled, but it was the sad smile of protest. "James," she said, "you are a man of wonderful judgment, but sometimes you persist in looking at life through stained glass. Something is wrong with you and you ought to see a doctor at once." "There you go," he cried, winking at his daughter.
He must be going after something particularly fine, for I heard him tell old Josh that he wanted a bottle of the oldest liquor in town, no matter what it costs. But he didn't take it with him, come to recollect. He 'lowed he'd want it this evening when he come back." McElwin walked straightway to his home.
I told McElwin just now that your check would be good as long as I had any money at his bank, and it made him wink, but before I went out he acknowledged that you were about the truest sort of a man he ever ran against. You have educated us all. And now as to a more delicate matter.
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