f iron could go through the ordeal of eight or ten years' bank service
and run the gauntlet of attractive femininity without injury to a
single soul; but young men are not made of iron. Evan wondered if
those who wrote the Rules and Regulations had daughters, or if they
remembered the letters they had received when they were clerking in
little towns. Why didn't they take the whole of human nature into
consideration when they laid down laws to govern employes? The fact
that they had ignored the right of young men to marry at a reasonable
age had wrought a thousand published wrongs and ten thousand wrongs
that would never reach the press.

In his silent room the young teller rebelled against the bonds that
held him and his fellows. He counted the years that must elapse before
he could hope to marry. At one hundred dollars increase per year it
would take him seven years more to earn $1,050. In the East the
"marriage minimum" was $1,000, in the West $1,200. Like Jacob he must
work seven years for his wife. And then would it be Rachel or someone
else? Would Frankie wait such an age for him? Could any man expect a
girl to believe in the seriousness of his intentions for eighty-four
months--a year of weeks? He believed she would wait if she understood,
but how could a girl understand "business" like that?

The teller's mind grew darker as he mused. He saw only gloom ahead.
The drunken manager staggered into his room, in spirit, and delivered
another lecture on the "aristocracy of banking." Bah!

Evan filled with rebellion as his situation stood out before him--a
sudden pain in the head warned him that he was worrying. Then came a
slight reaction.

"Pshaw!" he muttered, "I'm putting myself in a rotten humor. I'll feel
better in the morning."

And so he did. The "light of common day" is often preferable to the
illusions of night. In spite of his disturbed state of mind Evan had
slept well. Penton, too, had slept, but not well. Judging from his
appearance in the morning, his dreams must have been diabolical.

When the teller entered the office Penton greeted him sullenly.

"Well," he said, grouchily, "I suppose I made a nice mess of things
last night. I suppose every ---- gossip in town will talk about it for
months."

In spite of his grouch the manager looked frightened. Anyone could see
he was worried.

"Not many know of it," said Evan, indifferently.

"Do you think they will blab?" Penton was