his eyes going up and down
the stalwart figure and dwelling finally and persistently on the young
man's hair; it was copper-bronze in hue, it had an attractive wave,
there was plenty of it, and it seemed to be very firmly rooted.

"I don't remember that I mentioned it, Mr. Britt, but I do have an
errand with you."

"All right! What is it?" Mr. Britt was not revealing any emotions that
Vaniman found illuminating in regard to his particular quest.

"I am being tongue-lashed terribly through the wicket. Men won't believe
that I'm obeying the orders of you and the board when accommodation is
refused. Won't you take the matter off my hands--let me refer all to
you?"

"I don't keep a dog and do my own barking," rasped the president. He
brought his eyes down from the young man's hair and noted that Vaniman
stiffened and was displaying resentment.

"That's only a Yankee motto--you needn't take it as personal, Vaniman.
I have turned over to you the running of the bank. I say to all that
you're running it. You ought to feel pretty well set up!"

"I obey your orders, sir," returned the cashier, not warming.

"That's all right for an understanding between us two. But I let the
public think you're the whole thing. I tell 'em I've got full confidence
in you. You don't want the public to think you're only a rubber stamp,
do you?"

"The general opinion right now seems to be that I'm either a first-class
liar or Shylock sentenced to a second term on earth," retorted Vaniman,
with bitterness.

There was a long silence in the room, where the early dusk was
deepening. The two men regarded each other with expressions that did not
soften.

After a time Britt turned to his desk, unlocked a compartment, and
produced a letter, which he unfolded slowly, again staring hard at the
cashier.

"Speaking of being sentenced!" There was something ominous in his drawl.
"You told me a whole lot about yourself, Vaniman, when I was talking of
hiring you. But there was one important thing you didn't mention--mighty
important, seeing that you wanted a job as boss of a bank." He tapped
the open letter. "I've had this letter for a good many weeks, not saying
anything about it to you or anybody else. I'm not sure just why I'm
saying anything now."

Vaniman flushed. His face worked with emotion. He put up his hand and
started to speak, but Britt put up a more compelling hand and went on.
"I reckon I'm bringing this matter up so that you'll know j