Cranford, Elizabeth Gaskell [books to read to improve english TXT] 📗

striking his fist down on the table, as if to try which was the harder, “the chap talks as if notes and gold were to be had for the picking up.”

Miss Matty had forgotten her silk gown in her interest for the man. I don’t think she had caught the name of the bank, and in my nervous cowardice I was anxious that she should not; and so I began admiring the yellow-spotted lilac gown that I had been utterly condemning only a minute before. But it was of no use.

“What bank was it? I mean, what bank did your note belong to?”

“Town and County Bank.”

“Let me see it,” said she quietly to the shopman, gently taking it out of his hand, as he brought it back to return it to the farmer.

Mr. Johnson was very sorry, but, from information he had received, the notes issued by that bank were little better than waste paper.

“I don’t understand it,” said Miss Matty to me in a low voice. “That is our bank, is it not?⁠—the Town and County Bank?”

“Yes,” said I. “This lilac silk will just match the ribbons in your new cap, I believe,” I continued, holding up the folds so as to catch the light, and wishing that the man would make haste and be gone, and yet having a new wonder, that had only just sprung up, how far it was wise or right in me to allow Miss Matty to make this expensive purchase, if the affairs of the bank were really so bad as the refusal of the note implied.

But Miss Matty put on the soft dignified manner, peculiar to her, rarely used, and yet which became her so well, and laying her hand gently on mine, she said⁠—

“Never mind the silks for a few minutes, dear. I don’t understand you, sir,” turning now to the shopman, who had been attending to the farmer. “Is this a forged note?”

“Oh, no, ma’am. It is a true note of its kind; but you see, ma’am, it is a joint-stock bank, and there are reports out that it is likely to break. Mr. Johnson is only doing his duty, ma’am, as I am sure Mr. Dobson knows.”

But Mr. Dobson could not respond to the appealing bow by any answering smile. He was turning the note absently over in his fingers, looking gloomily enough at the parcel containing the lately-chosen shawl.

“It’s hard upon a poor man,” said he, “as earns every farthing with the sweat of his brow. However, there’s no help for it. You must take back your shawl, my man; Lizzle must go on with her cloak for a while. And yon figs for the little ones⁠—I promised them to ’em⁠—I’ll take them; but the ’bacco, and the other things⁠—”

“I will give you five sovereigns for your note, my good man,” said Miss Matty. “I think there is some great mistake about it, for I am one of the shareholders, and I’m sure they would have told me if things had not been going on right.”

The shopman whispered a word or two across the table to Miss Matty. She looked at him with a dubious air.

“Perhaps so,” said she. “But I don’t pretend to understand business; I only know that if it is going to fail, and if honest people are to lose their money because they have taken our notes⁠—I can’t explain myself,” said she, suddenly becoming aware that she had got into a long sentence with four people for audience; “only I would rather exchange my gold for the note, if you please,” turning to the farmer, “and then you can take your wife the shawl. It is only going without my gown a few days longer,” she continued, speaking to me. “Then, I have no doubt, everything will be cleared up.”

“But if it is cleared up the wrong way?” said I.

“Why, then it will only have been common honesty in me, as a shareholder, to have given this good man the money. I am quite clear about it in my own mind; but, you know, I can never speak quite as comprehensibly as others can, only you must give me your note, Mr. Dobson, if you please, and go on with your purchases with these sovereigns.”

The man looked at her with silent gratitude⁠—too awkward to put his thanks into words; but he hung back for a minute or two, fumbling with his note.

“I’m loth to make another one lose instead of me, if it is a loss; but, you see, five pounds is a deal of money to a man with a family; and, as you say, ten to one in a day or two the note will be as good as gold again.”

“No hope of that, my friend,” said the shopman.

“The more reason why I should take it,” said Miss Matty quietly. She pushed her sovereigns towards the man, who slowly laid his note down in exchange. “Thank you. I will wait a day or two before I purchase any of these silks; perhaps you will then have a greater choice. My dear, will you come upstairs?”

We inspected the fashions with as minute and curious an interest as if the gown to be made after them had been bought. I could not see that the little event in the shop below had in the least damped Miss Matty’s curiosity as to the make of sleeves or the sit of skirts. She once or twice exchanged congratulations with me on our private and leisurely view of the bonnets and shawls; but I was, all the time, not so sure that our examination was so utterly private, for I caught glimpses of a figure dodging behind the cloaks and mantles; and, by a dexterous move, I came face to face with Miss Pole, also in morning costume (the principal feature of which was her being without teeth, and wearing a veil to conceal the deficiency), come on the same errand as ourselves. But she quickly took her departure, because, as she