A Canadian Bankclerk Part 31

"I won't be able to swipe any more silver," he said, facetiously.

The manager did not reply to the levity; he stared out of the window and Evan could see his cold hands shiver.

"I'll be sorry to lose you, Nelson," he said, humbly, and walked into his house.

Some time later Mrs. Penton came out to bid the teller good-bye. She had been crying; that was the poor woman's chief occupation.

"Are they really moving you away?" she asked.

"Yes, Mrs. Penton, my train goes in a couple of hours."

She held out her hand, and turned away before he had released it. He watched her slight form disappear in the dark hall, and stood gazing into the gloom that enwrapped her.

"Say, Ape," said Filter, "will you take me in your room at Terry's?"

"You can have it all," said Henty, holding up a sheet of paper; "here's my resignation."

CHAPTER XII.

_SOME WHEEL-COGS COME TOGETHER._

It was the rule in Evan's bank that the branch to which a clerk was moved should stand the expense of transportation. Evan was, therefore, obliged to borrow ten dollars from the Banfield branch to buy a railway ticket. There was no account, though, to which the voucher could be charged, so the manager agreed to hold a cheque in the cash for a week; that would give the transient clerk time to find a lodging in the city and to put through his expense voucher on the Toronto office.

"Are you really serious about quitting, Henty?" asked Evan, as they stood on the little depot platform. Filter was back at the office, transferring leaves from the ledger to a file.

"You bet," said Henty; "I don't believe I ever would have stuck here if you hadn't come along. That night you hit this dump I was down-and-out, but you came across with a line of talk that cheered me up. Honest, Nelson, you're one of the decentest lads I ever met."

Evan's laughter echoed from the woods west of the station. A few Banfield folk scattered around waiting for the daily excitement of seeing a train, looked at him askance, as if to say: "What do you bankers care about a town? We see little of you when you're here; and you go away with a laugh!"

"But," said Evan, "it will be a month before you can get off."

"That's nothing; I can stand it for four weeks, when I know that I'm leaving."

"You speak as though the job really weighed on you."

"It does; I didn't realize it till now."

Up the track the train whistled.

"Well--good-bye, A. P. I think you're wise to quit."

"Thanks. Good-bye, old sport."

The color came in a flood to the big junior's face. There might just as well have been a tear in his eye, under the circ.u.mstances. He watched the train hurry away, eager to make up for the minute lost in Banfield; then turned down the board walk toward the bank, with a sigh.

The hotel Evan found his way to, on arriving in the city, was on King Street West. After checking in his baggage he wandered in some direction, and, to his surprise, found himself gazing rube-fashion into the very office to which he was a.s.signed. Half the desks were lighted, and clerks still worked on them, although it was past ten o'clock.

Evan sighed, like a sleeper who is tired out, and walked further on.

The first cross-street he came to was brilliantly lighted; its life and gaiety had an effect upon him. He thought there were a great many people going about. He dropped into a picture-show for over half an hour, and when he came out the theatre crowds were pouring into the street. Then he thought the city must be a delightful place to live in. What a bunch of pretty faces!

About eleven o'clock he worked his way back toward the hotel. He watched for the bank and found it still full of spectral activity. It occurred to him that city life must be made up of pleasure and work, without any rest. He was to find that largely the case.

Wondering what post he would be asked to fill in the main city branch of his bank, the Banfield teller fell asleep. There is, however, a somnolence unworthy of the name of sleep. Such was Evan's unconsciousness. It may have been that he had a more sensitive temperament than most bankboys, but, at any rate, it is a fact that whenever anything out of the ordinary occurred in his life of routine he was cursed with sleeplessness. Dreams had a liking for him, the kind of dreams that incline to acrobatic feats and magic transformations. He dreamt, this night as he tossed about, that he and Henty were driving a herd of cattle up King Street, trying to steer them toward the bank, where it was desirable to corral them, when suddenly the kine raised up on their hind legs and became human beings, many of them with charming faces.

As a result of his hallucinations he was burdened with yawning next morning. After a light breakfast he set out for the bank, arriving there at half past eight. Several of the clerks were working. He rapped on the door, and the janitor, who was dusting, let him in.

"I'm a new man here," he said.

"Another victim, eh?"

Evan smiled. Apparently the place had a reputation.

"What's your name?" asked the bank's man.

"Nelson."

"Hey," called the janitor, "come here, Bill. Here's a new pal."

The individual named "Bill" slouched up the office.

"Well, for heaven's sake!" cried Evan. "I thought you were dead."

Bill Watson shook his old desk-mate's hand heartily, and wove undictionaried words into his speech.

"Where have you been, Evan?"

"Why, don't you know? I've been teller and accountant at Banfield."

Watson smiled.

"One of those three-entry-a-day places?"

"No, sir; I worked nights more than half the time."

Bill grunted.

"This business is getting to be a son-of-a-gun, Evan. Even in country towns the boys are being nailed down to it. The bank keeps cutting down its staff, or otherwise losing them, and crowding more and more work on the boys who stick."

Evan was silent for a while. Bill's familiar voice carried him back to Mt. Alban, and he could see the office as it looked the day he began banking. He could, moreover, see the faces of Julia Watersea and Hazel Morton.

"Have you heard from the old town lately, Bill?"

"No, not for a year. I left there soon after you did. They sent me to Montreal, then here. I got a few letters from Hazel when she was there."

"Is she gone from the Mount?"

"Yes, d---- the bank and poverty!"