anager, more than three of a staff. Jones
relied on the faithfulness and assiduousness of his teller-accountant,
and Evan struggled through each day as best he could.

The Christmas season is always busy. Fortunately for Evan, however,
the manager was feeling better as the holiday neared; he took over the
cash to let the teller away. Filter was too poor to go home for
turkey, and the junior was waiting in great suspense for a cheque from
home. Deposits do not constitute all the money that is paid into the
coffers of Canadian banks: farmers and townsmen help the bank feed,
clothe and provide recreation for its employes; they send remittances
regularly to bankclerk sons who must keep up an appearance in spite of
starvation pay.

"Leave the twenty-third returns for me, Mr. Jones," said the teller,
with holiday courage and generosity, "and let anything wait you can.
I'll be back the twenty-sixth."

"All right, Nelson, we'll get along some way."

The manager's words indicated that Evan was indispensable, which was
practically the case. He did the work of two men--on the salary of
half a man or less. He had been working slavingly at Banfield for a
year on less than a living wage, learning practically nothing that
would fit him for anything but bank life. He had even missed summer
furlough, because of the manager's illness. The bank thanked him by
letter for the sacrifice, and promised him "an extra two weeks later
on."

What had kept Nelson interested for a solid year in the village of
Banfield? Chiefly work; after that a lake and girls. How many years
of faithful service do branch banks owe to the attractiveness and
amiability of town girls!

His work alone provided Evan with all the excitement he needed, and
when reactions came there was always a young lady to be paddled out on
the water. Bank work is entertaining; few clerks do not enjoy it, once
they have mastered the routine. Time flies when a fellow is on the
cash in a busy office; it vanishes when he is also in charge of the
office as acting-accountant. Figuring out entries and chasing balances
is a fascinating occupation, like vaudeville, and just as precarious a
specialty.

A conscientious bankclerk cannot look on a heap of accumulated work
with indifference; when he is also ambitious he rolls up his sleeves
and forgets everything in the debris of vouchers and figures. Like a
mole he works away, his eyes blinded (to keep out the muck); unlike t