voices run on till men got to talking over the chances of a dividend,
'They went to the Bank of England,' drawled an American, 'and the Bank
of England let them down; said their securities weren't good enough.'

'Great Scott!'--a hand came down on a table to emphasise the remark--'I
sailed half way up the Mediterranean once with a Bank of England
director; wish I'd tipped him over the rail and lowered him a boat on
his own security--if it was good enough.'

'Baring's goes. The O.B.C. don't,' replied the American, blowing smoke
through his nose. 'This business looks de-ci-ded-ly prob-le-mat-i-cal.
What-at?'

'Oh, they'll pay the depositors in full. Don't you fret,' said a man who
had lost nothing and was anxious to console.

'I'm a shareholder,' said the American, and smoked on.

The rain continued to fall, and the umbrellas dripped in the racks, and
the wet men came and went, circling round the central fact that it was a
bad business, till the day, as was most fit, shut down in drizzling
darkness. There was a refreshing sense of brotherhood in misfortunes in
the little community that had just been electrocuted and did not want
any more shocks. All the pain that in England would be taken home to be
borne in silence and alone was here bulked, as it were, and faced in
line of company. Surely the Christians of old must have fought much
better when they met the lions by fifties at a time.

At last the men departed; the bachelors to cast up accounts by
themselves (there should be some good ponies for sale shortly) and the