All the Chichester blood was roused
in him.
"Now that's what I call a downright, rotten, blackguardly shame--a
BLACKGUARDLY SHAME!" His voice rose in tones as it increased in
intensity until it almost reached a shriek.
Something was expected of him. At any rate indignation. Well, he was
certainly indignant.
"Closed its doors, indeed!" he went on. "Why should it close its
doors? That's what I want to know! Why--should--it?" and he glared
at the unoffending letter and the non-committal newspaper.
He looked at Ethel, who was surreptitiously concealing a yawn, and
was apparently quite undisturbed by the appalling news.
He found no inspiration there.
Back he went to his mother for support.
"What RIGHT have banks to fail? There should be a law against it.
They should be made to open their doors and keep 'em open. That's
what we give 'em our money for--so that we can take it out again
when we want it."
Poor Mrs. Chichester shook her head sadly.
"Everything gone," she moaned. "Ruined! and at my age!"
"Nice kettle of fish," was all Alaric could think of. He was
momentarily stunned. He turned once more to Ethel. He never relied
on her very much, but at this particular crisis he would like to
have some expression of opinion, however slight--from her.
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