isn't the same business it
used to be at all. Salaries haven't kept up with the times. A bunch
of junior men are now employed to fill posts that experienced clerks
used to occupy. The bank makes a policy of recruiting--even going to
Europe, where clerks think five dollars is equal to a pound
sterling--to keep down expenses. A boy like yourself can, by heavy
plodding, do the work of a ten-year clerk. He may not do it so
accurately, but he gets it done at last, and that is what the bank
wants. He does it, too, on a wage that should frighten future
battalions, no matter how brave and countrified, away from the
business."

Evan felt, for the moment, that Sam Robb was speaking. He thought of
the day he had accused Robb of cherishing a grudge against the
business, of being "sore on his job." But here was meek little Jones
repeating the sentiments of the Mt. Alban bachelor manager. It was
enough to make one think. Evan did think, and he began to open his
mind to a wider criticism of the business. He began to wonder if he
had been cut out for a bankclerk. Why had Robb repeatedly made
anti-banking suggestions to him? Had he seen incapacity for clerical
work in the Mt. Alban swipe? Did Jones discern a similar inaptitude
for bank service and hint things for the teller's benefit? Was there a
chance that he (Evan) possessed faculties that must die in the business
of his mother's choice, and that these qualifications were plainly
visible to men older in life and the banking business than himself? At
times Evan felt underfitted for the bank, and at other times
overfitted. His spirits varied accordingly. Most of the time,
however, his mental attitude "balanced," and inactivity of thought was
the result. He had reached inertia of mind before his conversation
that night with Jones was finished.

"Sometimes," he confessed, "I wonder where I am at."

"That describes the average bankboy," replied Jones, promptly. "He
drifts along for years in just that frame of mind. When he rouses
himself to thought a flood of work comes along and drowns him. Then he
sleeps for another month or two. I don't believe there is a class of
boys on earth who do less thinking and planning for their future than
Canadian bankclerks."

"That's funny," said Evan to himself, "I had a hunch when I joined the
bank that that was the case. Guess I've grown used to their ways."

Automatically his mind reverted to the work out there in the off