"Bank Closed" was printed upon them in large gold letters.
Potts stepped aside to look into the window, and the curtain of that descended relentlessly.

The bank had suddenly taken on an aspect of Sabbath blankness.

Once more the Colonel rattled the knob, then he turned to his gathering followers.
"Gentlemen, I came here to press the hand of one of Nature's noblemen, my tried friend, the Honorable Asa Bundy, whom we have just seen retreating to his precincts, as I might say, with a modesty that is rarely beautiful.

But no matter." Here the Colonel mounted the top step and glowed out upon his faithful and ever enlarging band.
"Instead, my friends, allow me to read you this splendid tribute from Bundy, and I trust that after this I shall never hear one of you utter a word in his disparagement." Rapidly fluttering the packet of letters, he drew out one bearing the imprint of the First National Bank of Little Arcady.

The crowd, pressing closer, was cheerfully animated.