ident out here, because
I'm busy and I ain't got long to wait."

And blame me if the president didn't come out, too, after a while! He
was a little man, yet looked like he'd just got his suit of clothes from
the tailor that morning, and his necktie too--white and rather
soft-looking; not very tall, but wide, with no whiskers. I didn't have
no use for him at all.

The president he came smiling, with both his hands out. He certainly was
a glad-hand artist, which is what a bank president has to be today--he's
got to be a speaker and a handshaker. The rest don't count so much.

He taken us into his own room. I never had knowed that chairs growed so
large before or any table so long; but we set down. That president
certainly knew good cigars.

"My dear Mr. Wright," says he, "I'm profoundly glad that you have at
last came in to see us. I knew of your purchase in our institution and
we value your association beyond words. With the extent of your
holdings--which perhaps you will increase--you clearly will be entitled
to a place on our board of directors. I'm a Western man myself--I came
from Moline, Illinoy; and perhaps it will not be too much if I ask you
to let me have your proxy, just as a matter of form." He talks like a
book.

We had some more conversation, and when we went out all the case keepers
stood up and bowed, one after the other. We didn't seem to have no
trouble opening a account after that.

"The stock in this bank's too low," says Old Man Wright to me on the
side. "That's why I bought it. They're going to put it up after a while;
and when they start to put things up they put 'em farther when you begin
on the ground floor. Do you see?"

I begun to think maybe Old Man Wright was something more than a cowman,
but I didn't say nothing. We went back to the hotel and he calls in
Bonnie Bell to our room.

"Look at me, sis," says he. "Is they anything wrong with me?"

She sits down on his knee and pushes back his hair.

"Why, you old dear," says she, "of course they ain't."

"Is they anything wrong with my clothes or Curly's?" he says.

"Well now----" she begins.

"That settles it!" says he; and that afternoon him and me went down to a
tailor.

What he done to each of us was several suits of clothes. Old Man Wright
said he wanted one suit each of every kind of clothes that anybody ever
had been knew to wear in the history of the world. I was more moderate.
I never was in a spiketail in my whole life a