A Canadian Bankclerk Part 24

Business was rushing. The work in the box had gradually increased, and other work had piled up since the new manager's arrival. Jones, though sick half the time and half sick the rest of the time, had done more than Penton would do. Penton, despite his criticism on the former manager's system, made no real effort to establish anything better. He often pointed out "how we used to do it in the M---- Bank," and sometimes Evan agreed with him but he never took off his coat and dug out the submerged junior or ledger-keeper as Jones had done, He seemed to be engaged forever in a mental calculation. Frequently he did not hear questions addressed to him. What little work he undertook was haggled at in spasms and usually left for the accountant to finish.

All the boys were loaded down with routine. They never thought of leaving the office until six o'clock, and night-work was now the rule.

Evan began to have headaches.

The people of Banfield kindly let Penton's first offence pa.s.s, as it had been prophesied they would. Everyone knew about it, of course--what village of nine hundred population ever lost sight entirely of such a piece of news?

Mrs. Penton was delighted to know that she and her husband had not been disgraced. Penton pretended, now the danger was past, that he would not have cared.

"It's a funny thing," he said, with an adjective, "if a man can't take a social drink without insulting the town."

This remark was addressed to the whole staff. At times Penton was absurdly pompous and uncommunicative before the boys; at other times he entered into a mysterious intimacy with them, a relationship distasteful to them. They preferred his professional tactics to those others.

"By heck," said Henty one afternoon, after one of Penton's good-fellow demonstrations, "I naturally hate that devil!"

Nelson laughed immoderately, in the way one laughs who has been under a strain too long. Filter, even, thought the remark funny.

"I understand," he said, "that Penton has bought all his furniture on credit from Hunter's."

"Who told you?" asked Evan, interestedly.

"Jack Hunter," replied the ledger-keeper.

Nelson consulted his thoughts. He was conscious of an addition to the vague fear he already cherished.

The end of the month (January) kept the Banfield staff so busy they had little time to discuss the one great theme--Penton. He kept to his office pretty well and seemed to read the newspaper for hours every day. He did work a little on the loan return, after Evan had balanced the liability ledger, but left the totals to his teller. For one thing, however, Penton deserved credit: he was the most industrious signer of names that ever escaped jail for forgery. He even initialed items on the general ledger balance-sheet, where initials were ridiculous, to give the impression that he had checked the work.

For the first week in February the boys worked every night. Henty's face kept its color, but Nelson began to look like Filter. The ledger-keeper plodded so slowly and fondled his ledger so tenderly, his pasty face did no worse than remain pasty. There was new vim for him in every new account opened. He knew the names of every man, woman and child in his ledger. He might be moved away any time, and all his special knowledge would become useless to him--Filter knew that--but he did not live in his ledger from a sense of duty: he just loved clerically killing time. He was too lazy or too unoriginal to think, so he kept his mind occupied with insignificant things, and made an ideal clerk.

It was afternoon, toward the end of a certain week in February. Henty had been down to a grain elevator at the station with a draft. It usually took him a long time to deliver a draft in that direction, because Hilda Munn lived out there; but this day he came back rapidly and rushed excitedly up to the teller's box.

"Nelson!" he whispered ominously, tapping the cage door.

Evan turned around and smiled at the expression of A. P.'s face.

"What's the matter, Henty?"

Filter had foregone the temptation to make an entry, and stood listening and watching.

"It's Penton. He's drunk again. He took the 3.30 train south."

"Was he alone?"

"Yes."

Immediately Evan went and found Mrs. Penton. She was nursing the white poodles. They nearly went mad when a stranger entered the domain of their mistress.

"Mrs. Penton," said the teller, "do you know where Mr. Penton is?"

She paled at once. Evan could see that she lived in dread of her husband's habit, and was on the watch for outbreaks.

"Has anything happened, Mr. Nelson?" she asked, painfully.

"Yes. He's gone on the southbound."

"To Toronto!" she cried. "Was he intoxicated?"

"Yes."

The teller gazed on her in pity. After she had stared at him a while her eyes saw sympathy and understanding, and she cried. He a.s.sured her the work at the office would not be neglected, and promised to forge Penton's name to the daily cash-statement so as to keep the matter a secret from head office. She clutched his shoulders and sobbed against them. His heart ached for her, and he promised to help Penton all he could.

"Oh, Mr. Nelson," she stammered, wiping her cheeks, "if only Pen were like--like you!"

Then she wept again. The spell over, she inquired about the trains and found she could get to Toronto in the evening.

"I know where to find him," she said. "We lived in Toronto a year.

Mr. Nelson, you can't imagine how I have suffered through it all. When I married Pen I knew he took an occasional gla.s.s, but I didn't dream that he was a drunkard."

"Is it as bad as that, Mrs. Penton?"

"It is as bad as it can be." She spoke excitedly. "I have known him to spend fifty dollars in one night, when he was only making nine hundred dollars a year. (We got married by special influence.) It just seems as though something draws him toward a debauch every little while. I'm afraid this small town will be our ruination."

Evan tried to make her load lighter and, in a degree, succeeded. There is no burden so heavy that true sympathy will not budge it a little.

Mrs. Penton coaxed him to have tea with her; preparing it, she said, would occupy her mind. She couldn't bear to stay alone. The teller pretended to have pleasure in accepting her invitation. There was a certain amount of novelty in eating alone at a table with a strange young woman. Still, the circ.u.mstances were not very romantic.

Neither were the circ.u.mstances surrounding Penton's return. He contrived to get away from his wife in Toronto and board a train for Banfield. He arrived several hours ahead of her, and advertised himself all over town as something to be pitied. This was two days after his drunken flight. When Mrs. Penton came on the scene the manager was standing helplessly before the staff, crying like a bruised youngster. Evan sat up all night with him, studying the pathos and humor of delirium tremens. The drink demon is a tragic devil, but he has fits of fun.

For days the manager could not sign his name. The teller did it for him, feeling as he did so that he was supporting a rotten structure that must soon fall. He did not picture himself among the debris, however.

CHAPTER X.

_TROUBLE COMES._

By quarrelling with his wife and kicking the pups Penton managed to entertain himself, apart from the keg, for over a month. Then he went and did it again. He took some money to a place called Burnside to cash cattle tickets for a drover who did business at the Banfield branch. When he got back he was in a boisterous state of intoxication.

"h.e.l.lo, old kid!" he said to Henty, whom he met at the door of the bank.

Henty backed up and went in the office again, to consult with the teller.

"This is getting monotonous," said Nelson. "What would you do about it, A. P.?"

"Report the son-of-a-gun," said Henty, florid of countenance.

"Sure," said Filter; "he'll be holding us up some of these days at the point of a gun."

Evan thought over Filter's remark, for he had been tempted to entertain similar notions himself. What might not happen if Penton got in a drunken craze? The teller worried more and more as he speculated on the possible outcome of events.