s and busily figuring. He was working
over time much of late and explained his industry by the fact of his
approaching marriage and his desire to make things easy for me to handle
while he was on his brief wedding trip. I was not much alarmed by the
prospect. He was to be gone but a week and I had become sufficiently
familiar with the routine to feel confident in assuming the
responsibility. Small, my predecessor, had a brother who had formerly
been employed in the bank and was now out of work, and he was coming in
to help during the cashier's absence. I was not worried by the prospect
of being left in charge, but I was worried about George. He, so it
seemed to me, had grown pale and thin. Also he was nervously irritable
and not at all like his usual good-natured self. I tried to joke him
into better humor, but he did not respond to my jokes. He seemed, too,
to realize that his odd behavior was noticeable, for he said:

"Don't mind my crankiness, Ros. I've got so much on my mind that I'd be
mean to my old grandmother, if I had one, I guess likely. Don't let my
meanness trouble you; it isn't worth trouble."

I laughed. "George," I said, "if I ever dreamed of such a thing as
getting married myself, you would scare me out of it. You ought to be a
happy man, and act like one; instead you act as if you were about to be
jailed."

He caught his breath with a sort of gasp. Then, after a pause and
without looking up, he asked slowly:

"Jailed? What in the world made you say that, Ros?"

"I said it because you act as if you were bound for state's prison
instead of the matrimonial altar. George, what IS troubling you?"

"Troubling me? Why--why, nothing special, of course. Catching up with my
work here makes me nervous and--and kind of absent-minded, I guess. Act
absent-minded, don't I?"

He did, there was no doubt of that, but I did not believe it was his
work which caused the absent-mindedness.

"If there is any trouble, George," I said, earnestly; "if you're in any
difficulty, personally, I shall be very glad to help you, if I can. I
mean that."

For a moment I thought he hesitated. Then he shook his head.

"I know you mean it, Ros," he answered. "I'm much obliged to you, too.
But there's nothing to help me with. I'm just nervous and tired, that's
all."

I did not believe it, but I felt that I had said all I could,
considering his attitude. I bade him good night and left the building.
As I came down the steps Miss