my staff realizes that the better it
will be for them."

The teller reddened with anger. Penton probably thought it was
timidity. But as Nelson did not speak the other was not enlightened.

"Now," continued Penton, "I want you to be my mouthpiece to the junior
men. Make them understand I am here to do things my own way. No more
private banking methods--"

"Excuse me, Mr. Penton," interrupted Nelson, vibrantly, in spite of a
desire to ignore with silence, "Mr. Jones had twenty years' banking
experience."

Penton altered his tone.

"Don't misunderstand me, Mr. Nelson," he said, smiling a smile of
defiance and diplomacy, "I am not knocking Mr. Jones. But you will
soon see the results of my more professional methods. I got my
training in the oldest and most aristocratic banking house in the
country."

The lecture eventually came to an end. It was on a par with anything
Penton was liable to say or do. Exhausted after the effort, he
withdrew to his apartments behind the bank. Evan entered his box and
slammed the door. Two faces flattened themselves against the sides of
the cage.

"Boys," said the teller coolly, but in a tone they were not used to
from him, "there's going to be ---- to pay around here."

"What's wrong?" asked Filter.

"Nothing," said Evan, "but this new manager is going to get in wrong.
I for one won't stand for his bluffing."

The teller went on to deliver the message given him. He scarcely
fulfilled Penton's wishes in the delivery, however.

"I'm with you, Nelson," said Henty, very red in the face and
ludicrously serious.

"You bet," said Filter, forgetting his ledger for the moment.

After locking up, that afternoon, Nelson went for a walk around the
pond. He was sick at heart. He wondered what would happen under
Penton's regime, he was certain something disastrous would. After
supper he went to the post office, hoping to hear from home. He wanted
to forget the bank and its worries for a while. Two letters were in
the mail for him, one from Julia and the other from Lily. He dropped
into the bank to read them and sat in the manager's office. A rap came
to the office door.

"Come in," he cried. Mrs. Penton entered, wretched-looking.

"Oh, Mr. Nelson," she cried, softly, "I need your help."

He arose from his chair and stood gazing at her.

"He's drinking again," she said; and the tears flowed when Evan's
interest was apparent.

"Where is he?"

"At the hotel," she