s well sleep here as in my house, all
alone. I'll have a cot put in the back room." He pointed to a door in
the rear of the bank office.

Vaniman came forward with instant and eager proffer. "That's a job for
me, Mr. Britt."

In spite of an effort to seem casual, Britt could not keep significance
out of his tone. "It's too bad to pen a young man up of an evening, when
he can be enjoying himself somewhere."

"It's because I'm young that I'm insisting, sir."

"And I suppose I'm so old that no husky robber would be afraid of me,"
returned Britt, dryly. "So you insist, do you?"

"I do."

"I must ask you to remember that you're doing it only because you have
volunteered."

"I'll be glad to have you tell the directors that I volunteered and
insisted."

"Very well! We'll have the thing understood, Frank. I wouldn't want to
have 'em think I was obliging you to do more than your work as cashier."

Therefore, Vaniman had a cot brought down from Squire Hexter's house,
and borrowed a double-barreled shotgun from the same source. He did not
consider that his new duty entailed any hardship. He had his evenings
for the pachisi games. Xoa insisted on making a visit to the bank and
putting the back room in shape for the lodger. But she vowed that she
was more than ever convinced that money was the root of all evil.

Frank's slumbers were undisturbed; he found the temporary arrangement
rather convenient than otherwise. He kindled his furnace fire before
going to the Squire's for breakfast and Britt Block was thoroughly warm
when he returned.

There was only one break in this routine, one occasion for alarm, and
the alarm was but temporary. Frank heard footsteps in the corridor one
evening after he had come back to the bank from the Squire's house.
Almost immediately Mr. Britt used his key and appeared to the young man.
"I waited till I was sure you were here," the president explained. "What
Hexter doesn't know won't hurt him--and I thought I'd better not come
to the house for you. I'm sorry it's so late." Britt was anxiously
apologetic.

"It isn't very late, sir."

"But it's late, considering what's on my mind, Frank. And now that I'm
here I hate to tell you what my errand is." He fumbled in his pocket and
brought out a letter, tapped it with his forefinger, and replaced it. "I
got it in the mail after you had gone to supper."

"If it's any matter where I can be of help, sir, you needn't be a bit
afraid to speak out."