“Good heavens!  Richard!”

“If, therefore, you think of doing rotten apple upon rotten pear, otherwise Haggart upon Baynes, why do it at five per cent when it is to be had by the quire at fifty?”

“Take them out of my sight,” said old Hardie, starting up—­“take them all out of my sight.  Thank God I sent for you.  No more discussion, no more doubt.  Give me your hand, my son; you have saved the bank!”

The conference broke up with these eager words, and young Skinner retired swiftly from the keyhole.

The next day Mr. Hardie senior came to a resolution which saddened poor old Skinner.  He called the clerks in and introduced them to Mr. Richard as his managing partner.

“Every dog has his day,” said the old gentleman.  “Mine has been a long one.  Richard has saved the bank from a fatal error; Richard shall conduct it as Hardie & Son.  Don’t be disconsolate, Skinner; I’ll look in on you now and then.”

Hardie junior sent back all the proposals with a polite negative.  He then proceeded on a two-headed plan.  Not to lose a shilling when the panic he expected should come, and to make 20,000 pounds upon its subsiding.  Hardie & Son held Exchequer bills on rather a large scale.  They were at half a crown premium.  He sold every one and put gold in his coffers.  He converted in the same way all his other securities except consols.  These were low, and he calculated they would rise in any general depreciation of more pretentious investments.  He drew out his balance, a large one, from his London correspondent, and put his gold in his coffers.  He drew a large deposit from the Bank of England.  Whenever his own notes came into the bank, he withdrew them from circulation.  “They may hop upon Hardie & Son,” said he, “but they shan’t run upon us, for I’ll cut off their legs and keep them in my safe.”

One day he invited several large tradesmen in the town to dine with him at the bank.  They came full of curiosity.  He gave them a luxurious dinner, which pleased them.  After dinner he exposed the real state of the nation, as he understood it.  They listened politely, and sneered silently, but visibly.  He then produced six large packets of his banknotes; each packet contained 3,000 pounds.  Skinner, then present, enveloped these packets in cartridge-paper, and the guests were requested to seal them up.  This was soon done.  In those days a bunch of gigantic seals dangled and danced on the pit of every man’s stomach.  The sealed packets went back into the safe.

“Show us a sparkle o’ gold, Mr. Richard,” said Meredith, linen-draper and wag.

“Mr. Skinner, oblige me by showing Mr. Meredith a little of your specie—­a few anti-bubble pills, eh!  Mr. Meredith.”

Omnes.  “Ha! ha! ha!”

Presently a shout from Meredith:  “Boys, he has got it here by the bushel.  All new sovereigns.  Don’t any of ye be a linen-draper, if you have got a chance to be a banker.  How much is there here, Mr. Richard?”