Ten o'clock struck, and the bank shutters remained up. Five minutes more,
and the watcher was in agony. Three minutes more, and up came a boy of
sixteen whistling, and took down the shutters with an indifference that
amazed him. "Bless your handsome face!" said Maxley with a sigh of
relief.
He now summoned up all his firmness, and, having recourse to an art in
which these shrewd rustics are supreme, made his face quite inexpressive,
and so walked into the bank the every-day Maxley externally, but within a
volcano ready to burst if there should be the slightest hesitation to pay
him his money.
"Good morning, Mr. Maxley," said young Skinner.
"Good morning, sir."
"What can we do for you?"
"Oh, I'll wait my turn, sir."
"Well, it is your turn now, if you like."
"How much have you got of mine, if you please, sir?"
"Your balance? I'll see. Nine hundred and four pounds."
"Well, sir, then, if _you_ please, I'll draa _that._"
("It has come!" thought Skinner.) "What, going to desert us?" he
stammered.
"No," said the other, trembling inwardly, but not moving a facial muscle:
"it is only for a day or two, sir.
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