actions were justified--if the women had only known! The chap
who stepped in with Frankie was Porter Perry.

Acting on manners he had learned somewhere, the Bonehead grabbed Evan's
hand before the latter had a chance to greet Frankie.

"Where on earth did you come from?" asked Evan.

"Oh, I left your bank," said Porter, importantly, "because they paid
such bad salaries. Then the U---- moved me here."

Frankie distracted Evan's attention.

"How are you, Frank?" he said, feeling mean as he took her little hand
and saw her blushing face.

"Just the same old way," she replied bravely; "you have changed an
awful lot though----"

She did not mean anything sentimental, but that kind of an
interpretation presented itself to her a moment after she had spoken
and she hurriedly added: "You are thin and paler than you used to be."
Her eyes alighted on the cigar smoking between his fingers. "Maybe
that's the reason," she said, laughingly.

Lou drew her chum off to exhibit those trinkets again. Mr. and Mrs.
Nelson were chatting in the kitchen, where the turkey sizzled.

"What post are you on, Evan?" asked Perry.

"Teller and accountant," was the casual reply.

"Gee," exclaimed the Bonehead disconsolately. He went in search of
consolation.

"What do they give you?"

"Three fifty," was the still more humble reply.

Porter's face lighted up.

"I draw four fifty," he said, grandly.

"What post?" asked Evan, anxiously.

"Ledger."

This was the first time Evan had had one of the bank's chief
shortcomings brought home to him--it makes little difference what a
clerk's intelligence or what his position and responsibility, he will
be paid according to the time he has served. He is not rewarded
according to his works, but paid for length of service. The business
offers no incentive to excel. Why work hard and honestly if you are
going to get the dead-level wage each year anyway? Good clerks suffer
because of the negligence of indifferent ones; but the former bring up
the average of work--and that is all the bank cares. The staff of a
bank is something to be worked en masse; the individual is an
insignificant part of the works.

Perry seemed fated to be a humiliation to Evan. Bank luck had thrown
the Bonehead into the spot where Evan longed to be, and had given him
enough salary to live on, humbly. But more ironical still was the
apparent attachment between Evan's old girl and Perry.

"If she could only ha