ing
exciting, in the form of promotion, or a move. He is given to
understand that many interesting and profitable changes await every
bankclerk; he knows not the day nor the hour when he may be transferred
to far-off green fields, filled with strange girls and other "things"
to make life pleasant. It is this ever-growing expectancy which gives
banking a fascination for young men, especially country boys. They
cannot see the day of weariness and monotony that is coming, the day of
poverty and celibacy, because between that time and the present there
is a golden glamor, a flame of luring light. This flame is fanned by
the windy tongues of reckless clerks and fed with the "oxygen" that
escapes from head office envelopes.

Evan believed it possible for his reputation to reach the ears of the
inspector after three weeks' service, and, although he was surprised
for the moment, he considered it reasonable enough that one of the
high-up officials should communicate with him over the telephone. All
night he counted cash in a nightmare and saw himself signing letters to
head office as "pro-accountant." Early the following morning he packed
his trunk and mentally bade his room good-bye. On his way to the
telegraph office, before eight o'clock, he was surprised to meet Mr.
Castle, the teller.

"I heard about it, Nelson," said Castle, stopping him on the street,
"and came down to inform you. This funny work has got to stop."

The teller-accountant was partial to verbs of command.

"What's that?" said Evan, bewilderedly.

Then Castle explained the frame-up, and, leaving the junior to console
himself on his first big disappointment, went up town to breakfast.
"Long distance" had meant across the street in a competitive bank.

The feelings of humiliation and chagrin experienced by the poor "swipe"
were exactly those that come to all bankboys in the days of their
initiation. It was the beginning of wisdom for Evan: though the end
was a long way off. Just as he had fallen from the position of
pro-accountant to junior, and from $400 to $200, in one minute, would
he tumble off many another pinnacle, on his way to solid ground.

It was a week before the Berne sensation died out in the "banking
circles" of Mt. Alban. It expired one balance night, the end of the
month of May. Everything but work must be forgotten in a bank when
balance day comes.

The manager was back at his desk by seven o'clock, the teller in his
cage