immediately. He was trying to figure out what the
manager meant.

"I hope I'll get along well," he said, finally.

"I hope so, Nelson; you deserve it; I'll do all I can for you. But the
bank is rather uncertain, you know. We are all--well, more or less
servants. Even I get my call-downs regularly. You didn't know that,
eh? Well, you'll get wise to a whole lot of things as time goes on.
However, I don't want to discourage you. Do your best wherever you
are."

Mr. Robb puffed his cigar into life before continuing.

"Don't take things too seriously, though. Now Mr. Castle, for
instance--anything he says just swallow it with a few grains of salt.
He's got bank blue-blood in his veins, you know. And this sweeping and
dusting--don't be so particular. You should be out playing ball or
tennis. I must get a woman to clean up from now on. The last manager
here started this business, but I'm going to stop it. I didn't say
anything while Perry was on the job because it helped break him in to
the habit of discipline--but you don't need a schoolmaster; in fact,
you need a sporting coach.... Here, do you smoke?"

Evan declined the cigar with thanks.

"You're right," said Robb, "it's a poor habit.... Was there nothing in
your home town that attracted you?" he asked suddenly.

"What do you mean--a business?"

"Yes."

"No, sir. There doesn't seem to be anything so good as the bank for a
young fellow."

"That's right," smiled the manager; "there doesn't seem to be. The
only thing some people in this country can see is the bank."

The junior looked surprised. Robb smiled satirically.

"A little of it won't do you any harm though, Nelson. Stay with it for
a while, since you have left school for good, and something else will
come along.... How do you like your boarding-house?"

"All right, sir."

When the manager had gone Nelson sat submerged in thought. He came to
the conclusion that Mr. Robb had "some kick coming" or he would not
give the banking business such cheap mention. He was swayed by the
prejudice of his boyhood days when the bank boys of Hometon were the
big dogs; and by the well-remembered expectations of his dear mother:
"We're going to have a banker in our family!"

The same evening Evan was perched on a stool stamping a pad of "forms"
when Watson entered.

"Hello, Nelson," casually. "There wasn't a phone call for me, was
there?"

"No, I didn't hear any, Mr. Watson."

Bill turned