pped with the official gavel that Judge
Walters wielded when counsel, in the heat of argument, transcended the
bounds of propriety.

"It's Fred Holton," bellowed some one.

Waterman smiled in quiet scorn. He had recognized Fred Holton and was
ready with his answer. One of his friends who had pushed through the
crowd whispered in his ear.

"My friends," he began, in the indulgent tone of a grieved parent, "the
gentleman who spoke a moment ago was quite right in remarking that this
is a meeting of citizens. No one denies his right to speak or to
interrupt other speakers if such be his idea of courtesy. But he will
pardon me for suggesting that it is remarkable that he of all men should
interrupt our friendly conference here and demand that names be
mentioned, when, prompted by a sense of delicacy, I have refrained from
mentioning his own name in this unpleasant connection. It's a name that
has been identified far too closely with the affairs of this town. I
should like to know how a member of the Holton family dare come to this
meeting, when the suspension of one of our chief industries and the
embarrassments of the Sycamore Traction Company are directly
attributable to the family of which this young gentleman is a member.
And while we sit here in conference, there are grave rumors afloat that
we are threatened with even more serious difficulties. Within a few
minutes word has reached me that a run is in progress upon certain of
our banks." (There was a commotion throughout the room, and those near
the doors were already pushing toward the street.)

"I beg of you, be not hasty; the hour calls for wise counsel--"

The shuffling of feet and overturning of chairs deadened the remainder
of his speech.

Phil escaped quickly from the court-house, and seeing the throng in Main
Street began a detour to reach Montgomery's Bank. Fred caught up with
her and begged her to go home.

"There's going to be a row, Phil, and you'd better keep out of the way."

"If there's a row, that silly Waterman is responsible," Phil replied.
"I'm going to the bank to see Amy."

People were flocking to Main Street from all directions, and finding
that she persisted in going on, Fred kept close beside her.

"He'll scold you if you do; you'd better go home," Fred urged as they
reached Franklin Street, a block south of Main, and saw the packed
streets at the First National corner.

They debated a moment; then Phil was seized with an idea.

"