I am trying to raise it on some private
securities I own, but I can't get an answer within several days.
Meanwhile the bank may fail, because of lack of funds. Of course
no one would lose anything, ultimately, as we could go into the
hands of a receiver, and, eventually pay dollar for dollar. Your
father and I, and some of the other directors, might lose a
little, but the depositors would not. But your father and I don't
like the idea of failing. It's something I've never done, and I'm
too old to start in now, bless my cash ledger if I'm not!"
"And for the sake of my reputation in this community I don't
want to see the bank close its doors," added Mr. Swift. "It would
give Foger too good a chance to crow over us."
"And you need cash in a hurry," went on Tom. "How much?"
"Fifty thousand dollars at least," replied Mr. Damon.
"And if you don't get it?"
The eccentric man shrugged his shoulders.
"Well," remarked Mr. Swift musingly, "I don't see that we need
worry you about it, Tom. Perhaps--"
Mr. Swift was interrupted by a ring at the front door. The
three looked at each other. It was late for a caller, and Mrs.
Baggert had gone to bed.
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