he knew little or nothing of the business
as yet, something told him that here was a shorn pasture. He could
find plenty of work for his hands, and bewildering, tiring work for his
head; but where was there occupation and recreation for the mind?

Perhaps the fact that he was associated with a boy of Perry's calibre
made the contrast between school and office wider. He recalled
examination-days when he had sat before a long paper with a feeling of
power and security. His pen could not travel fast enough, so familiar
was he with French and Latin vocabulary and construction, Ancient
History, Modern Literature, English Grammar, and other subjects. But
here in the bank he stumbled over a sight draft for $4.17 drawn by a
grocery firm and accepted by one Jerry Tangle.

Of course Evan exaggerated matters. Everyone who is homesick paints
home in beautiful colors and daubs every other place with mud-grey. He
forgot lamplight hours when he had wrested groans from Virgil and
provoked the shade of Euclid, and remembered only the good old friends
and the favorite studies of school-days. He did not know that Time
would bring familiarity with bank routine and that he would learn to
like the brainless labors of a clerk. He only knew that he felt
hungry, empty; that he had given up something illimitable for a
mathematical thing hedged about with paltry figures.

Evan was roused from his reverie by the feminine voice of Castle.

"Here you, get me ten three-dollar bills."

The teller handed him six fives. Evan was, for a moment, doubtful of
the existence of the denomination asked for, but he reasoned that
Castle would not give him the thirty dollars and look so serious if it
were only a joke. He went around among the banks on a wild-goose-chase
for the second time that day. A sympathizing junior from another bank
met him on the street.

"Say, Bo," he said, grinning; "don't let 'em kid you any more."

Evan's eyes suddenly opened. He made a confidant of this fellow and
asked him about the initiation tricks of bankclerks. He was warned
against winding combinations, ringing up fictitious numbers on the
telephone, and other misleaders.

Evan did not smile when he handed the six fives back to the teller. He
said nothing in reply to Castle's question, until the teller grew
intolerable; then he growled:

"Go to hell!"

Evan was not a profane individual, as a rule, but there were times when
drastic measures seemed justifi