seen college boys fritter away their time, miss examinations
repeatedly and get into trouble that cost their fathers dearly. He
determined that he would keep clear of youthful mixups and try to save
his money, to show his parents that he appreciated what they had done
for him, and to repay them, as well as he could, for what they had
given him. Sometimes he thought he had made a mistake in going into a
bank, but he felt, at that, that it was a brave and unselfish thing to
do, and he thought he saw wherein banking had many advantages over
school life. He could get an education behind the wicket and the iron
railing that would make him self-reliant. This idea fixed itself
firmly in his mind.

Homesickness still bothered him, of course. It made itself most
strongly felt after meals, like a species of gout. A youth, especially
a bankclerk, usually enjoys a good appetite; there is considerable
excitement about satisfying it. But when bodily hunger is appeased the
mind has leisure to satisfy itself or to feel dissatisfied. Evan could
not throw off the gloom that settled on him in the afternoons and
evenings. He saw and heard constantly that which reminded him of home
and those he loved best. But he did not succumb to the torture. He
faced his trials and resolved to make good.

While Nelson was battling against foes seen and unseen, Perry was
engaged in gladiatorial combat with a savings ledger. In the space of
a week he had developed a singularly profane vocabulary. Probably the
contiguity of Watson had something to do with it. He was under the
special tutelage of Watson, and the handling he received was anything
but gentle. It surely did require patience to instill anything into
that head of Porter's. His instructor would stand over him and tell
him in a dozen words just exactly what entries to make in a customer's
passbook. Porter would stare into oblivion during the lesson and when
it was done make a dab at his ink-pot, enter up a cheque as credit,
cross it out and make it a debit, then reverse the entry--all before
Watson could interfere. The Bonehead was not slow; in fact, he was too
rapid--but his swiftness was a serious detriment since the direction
taken was usually wrong. Porter acted on impulses, and they seemed
destined forever to be senseless. A swift inspiration came to him, he
made a slash with his heavily inked pen, there was a blot, a figure
with heavy lines drawn crookedly through it, an