eadows looked inquiringly at his companion.

"What would become of the cashiership?" asked Millard. "I suppose we
could divide that between us." "Won't you try a glass of Moselle?" And
he passed the bottle to Meadows, who poured out a glass of it--he never
declined wine when some one else paid for it--while Millard kept on
talking to keep from saying anything. "I like to drink the health of any
man who proposes to increase my salary, Mr. Meadows." Millard observed
with disgust that the bank director drank off the wine at a gulp as he
might have taken any vulgar claret, with an evident lack of
appreciation. Millard himself was a light drinker; nothing but the
delicate flavor of good wine could make drinking tolerable to him. The
mind of Meadows, however, was intent on the subject under discussion.

"The cashiership," he said, "could either be filled by some experienced
man or it might be left vacant for a while."

Millard saw a vision of Meadows, the discouraged brother, stepping in
over his head.

"If a cashier should be put in now," said Meadows, "it would end
presently in old Rip Van Winkle's resigning, and then an advance along
the whole line would move you up once more." Meadows thought that this
sop would reconcile Millard to having his brother interpolated above
him.

"That's a good plan," said Millard, using his finger-bowl; "and then if
Mr. Farnsworth would only be kind enough to die in one of his attacks,
and the other man should get rich by speculation and retire, I'd come
to be president at last. That is the only place suited to a modest and
worthy young man like myself."

This fencing annoyed Meadows, who was by this time salting and peppering
his roast beef, glaring at it the while like a boa-constrictor
contemplating a fresh victim in anticipation of the joys of deglutition.
Millard saw the importance of letting Masters know about this new move,
and feared that Meadows would attempt to put him under bonds of secrecy.
So, as he rose to go, like a prairie traveler protecting himself by
back-firing, he said:

"If you're really serious in this matter, Mr. Meadows, I suppose you'll
take pains not to have it generally known. For one thing, if you won't
tell anybody else, I'll promise you not to tell my wife."

"And if Farnsworth speaks to you about it," said Meadows, "don't tell
him that I have said anything to you. He wanted to tell you himself."

"I'll not let him know that you said anything about it