sobbed.

Evan went out and hurried to the town bar. There he was, the tall
manager, laughing insanely at the vile talk of Banfield's worst
characters; drinking to the health of debauchees who pictured Heaven as
an eternal beer-garden surrounded by living fountains and falls of
whiskey.

CHAPTER IX.

_THE SEED MULTIPLIES._

Henty was accessible by telephone. He answered Evan's excited summons.
Between them the boys got Penton home and in bed. It was no simple
task, either. The manager was obstreperous, but at the same time he
showed the white feather. Drink could not have made him so ridiculous:
there must have been something ridiculous in his nature.

"Why don't you let me alone?" he whined.

"Because," said Evan, "you're disgracing the bank. If you don't come
home I'll report you to head office."

They were on the street. Penton shuddered and went with them more
willingly when the threat had penetrated his clogged brain.

"You won't report me, will you? You won't report me?" he repeated in a
fawning manner, fearful and pitiful.

"Not if you cut this out," said the teller.

"I'll c-cut it out, old c-cock," laughed Penton raspingly, swaying to
the poison in his blood, "me f-for the water wagon after this."

He raved about himself until they had him in bed, then he raved about
everything.

"Do you want me to stay a while, Mrs. Penton?" asked the teller.

"No thank you, Mr. Nelson," she replied, wearily; "he will be all right
now. Oh, I'm so afraid this will be talked of all over town. Do you
think so?"

"Nobody saw him," said Nelson consolingly, "but a few drunks, and
anything they say won't matter."

"Oh, I hope so," she said; "it would be dreadful if the town turned
against us. This is our first branch, you know, and a scandal like
this might ruin us."

"Don't worry, Mrs. Penton; people are kind in this town, if they _are_
behind the times. They always forgive the first offence, and sometimes
more. During the two weeks Mr. Penton has been here he has made lots
of friends."

Mrs. Penton began to be comforted, for what the teller said was true.
Penton had a way with him among people; it was a hypocritical way, of
course, but the affectation of it was not clear to the kind, simple
people of Banfield. His ignoble flattery passed for amiability and
good-will.

"It won't occur again," said Mrs. Penton, thoughtfully; "this will be a
lesson to him. I wish you would frighten him, Mr.