al manager, besides having an interest in the profits
of the business.

He enjoyed the friendship of Mr. Wallace, and had been a constant
visitor at his house from the first days of that gentleman's married
life. He himself was alone in the world, a confirmed bachelor. He had
seen Mildred creep from babyhood into childhood, and bud from girlhood
to womanhood. To Mildred he was one of that numerous army of brevet
relations known as "gran-pop," "pop," or "uncle." To her he was Uncle
Sanders.

If the old man had one touch of human nature in him it was a solicitude
for Mildred's future--an authority arrogated to himself--to see that
she married the right man; but even that was directed to her material
gain in this world's goods, and not to any sentimental consideration
for her happiness. He flattered himself that by timely suggestion he
had "stumped" at least half a dozen would-be candidates for Mildred's
hand. He pooh-poohed love as a necessity for marital felicity, and
would enforce his argument by quoting from the bard:

"All lovers swear more performance than they are able, and yet reserve
an ability that they never perform; vowing more than the perfection of
ten, and discharging less than the tenth part of one."

"You can get at a man's income," he would say, "but not at his heart.
Love without money won't travel as far as money without love," and many
married people whose bills were overdue wondered if the old fellow was
not right.

He was cold-blooded and generally disliked by the men under him. The
more evil-minded gossips in the bank said he was in league with "Old
Nick." That, of course, was absurd, for it does not necessarily follow,
because a man suggests a means looking to an end, disreputable though
it be, that he has Mephistopheles for a silent partner. The
conservative element among the employees would not openly venture so
far, but rather thought if his satanic majesty and old Sanders ran a
race, the former would come in a bad second, if he were not distanced
altogether.

The old man always reached the office at nine. Mr. Wallace usually
arrived a half hour later, seldom earlier, which was so well understood
by Sanders that he was greatly surprised when he walked into the
president's office, the morning after that gentleman had attended
Diotti's concert, to find the head of the firm already there and
apparently waiting for him.

"Sanders," said the banker, "I want your advice on a matter of great