of these ladies; Samuel
had escaped from Montgomery and this was a consummation that had long
been the burden of their prayers. The very existence of the First
National Bank was offensive to the sisters of Amzi Montgomery. They had
wanted Amzi to "nationalize" his bank when the break occurred and it had
been "just like" their stubborn brother to continue in the old rut.

Mrs. William Holton lived in a modern house that was superior to
anything the Montgomerys could boast. It had two bathrooms, a
music-room, and electric lights. In Montgomery one bathroom had long
been a summit-crowning achievement, to which the fortunate possessor
might point with pride; and as for dedicating a room to music, and
planting in it a grand piano flanked by a bust of Mozart, and shedding
upon it a dim opalescent glow from concealed lights--no one in the
community had ever before scaled such heights of grandeur.

For half a dozen years after their sister's escapade the Montgomery
sisters had not spoken to a Holton; but in such communities as theirs
the "cutting" of persons with whom one has been brought up is attended
with embarrassments. William Holton had married, a little late, a
Memphis woman he had met on a trip to Mexico to inspect the plantations
in which he and his brother Samuel were interested. She was "a Southern
woman," with a charming accent, as every one admitted. The accent was
greatly admired. Several young girls sought to soften the vowels of
their native Hoosier speech in conformity with the models introduced by
Mrs. Holton. The coming of this lady, the zest with which she entered
into the social life of the town, the vacillations of certain old
friends of the Montgomerys who had taken sides against the Holtons after
the Kirkwood incident, had given the three sisters an excuse for
abandoning the feud in so far at least as it applied to William Holton.
In any view of the case, no matter how base the Holtons might be, there
was no reason why the family sins should be visited upon the lady with
the aforesaid accent, whose taste in dress was unassailable and who
poured tea with such an air.

Amzi read his newspaper in the little back room of the bank on a
November afternoon and awaited the coming of his sisters. The necessity
for any business discussions between them had steadily diminished. Their
father's estate had long ago been distributed, and Amzi had not troubled
himself as to the subsequent fate of the money he had pai