On the Lightship Part 21

"That man is getting rich," he cried, "who can every day add a little to the surplus in his heart----"

"What interest do you pay?" called out a bystander facetiously.

"None," replied the young man. "Ours is a profit-sharing enterprise."

"That don't mean anything," commented Mr. Wattles; "but it was a first-rate answer all the same. It made the people laugh."

"I wonder why?" demanded Mr. Clatfield.

The discourse ended presently and the audience dispersed, some with swinging dinner-pails and some with thin coats b.u.t.toned tightly at the neck.

"It does a fellow good to hear the world ain't going to the dogs,"

remarked a burly laborer, "even if it is just a crank who says it."

"Good-evening," said the young man, jumping from his dray and landing within speaking distance of the two adventurers. "I'm glad to see you here."

"And we are glad to be here," answered Mr. Wattles. "We have been greatly interested, especially my friend Mr. Clatfield, the banker."

Mr. Clatfield drew himself erect, for he considered such an introduction unnecessary.

"I have heard of Mr. Clatfield often," said the other simply, "and I am happy now to make his acquaintance. Good-evening, gentlemen; I hope you'll come again."

"One moment, please," the cashier interposed. "We will not detain you long, but my friend here has a proposition to make you. He is about to build a large church on the Heights, and he is anxious to secure a preacher who entertains the views you have expressed so well. May I ask you, sir, if you are free to undertake such a charge?"

The young man's face blushed red with gratified amazement.

"A church?--and on the Heights?" he stammered.

"Yes," went on Mr. Wattles, "a large church--very large. I don't suppose you would be sorry to give up this sort of thing." He made a motion of his head toward the dray.

"Would that be necessary?" the young man asked.

"Naturally," rejoined the other. "The two could scarcely be combined."

"In that case," said the preacher, "I am not free."

"The salary, I should have told you, will be twenty thousand dollars."

"You ought to get a first-rate man for that amount," replied the preacher. "I should advise you to consult the Bishop."

"Thank you," said Mr. Wattles, "and good-night."

"Wattles," cried Mr. Clatfield, who had heard the conversation with stupefied astonishment which deprived him of the power of speech; "Wattles, I have not the slightest idea of building a church either on the Heights or anywhere else."

"No," said Mr. Wattles, "I suppose not."

"I'm going home," announced the banker.

"All right," agreed the other. "We'll strike through here to Main Street."

At Main Street they were detained for several minutes at the corner where the trolleys cross, by the crowds waiting for the cars or flocking about the transfer agent like so many sheep for salt. They seemed a dull, bedraggled lot to Mr. Clatfield, just like every other lot who waited every night there for blue or red or yellow trolley cars. But the cashier's eyes went wandering from face to face, more in selection than in search, and presently he nudged his companion to call attention to a couple who stood apart a little from the rest under the shelter of a small, inadequate umbrella.

"What of them?" asked the banker crossly. "You need not look far to see a fellow and a girl."

The fellow in this case was tall and stoutly built, and the fact that he wore no overcoat might have been set down to strenuous habits. But as Mr. Wattles noted, he was the only man without an evening paper, and he wore his derby hat reversed in order that a worn place on the rim might be less conspicuous.

"I'll bet that young man is terribly hard up," remarked Mr. Wattles.

"You don't want me to adopt him, do you?" demanded Mr. Clatfield.

"Oh, no, but just see how his shoulder is getting soaked with drippings from the wet umbrella."

"That's the girl's fault," said Mr. Clatfield. "I guess he wishes she were home."

She was a plain girl with freckles on her nose; she carried a lunch basket and her gloves were white about the seams, but as the young man whispered something in her ear even Mr. Clatfield thought that he had never seen a more attractive smile. When a blue car came along the young man helped her carefully to mount the step, and in shaking hands they laughed and made a little secret of the act. As the car went on its way the young man ran for cover to the awning beneath which stood the banker and the cashier.

"Good-evening, sir," said Mr. Wattles. "I have seen you often at the bank."

"Oh, yes, indeed," replied the other, highly gratified to be recognized by one so great as Mr. Wattles. "I am there every day for my employers, Pullman & Pushings."

"An excellent firm," commented Mr. Wattles. "I understand they pay their people handsomely."

"Oh, as to that," responded the other, laughing, "it's rather handsome to pay at all in times like these."

"That's true," a.s.sented Mr. Wattles. "Times are dull, and more than likely to get worse."

"Oh, do you think so, really?" the young man asked rather wistfully.

"Sure of it," answered the cashier, "and if you've any thought of asking for a raise of salary, I should advise you not to do so."

"I'm very much obliged for the advice," rejoined the other, "because I have been thinking----"

"Ahem!" coughed Mr. Wattles, interrupting. "I want to introduce you to our president, Mr. Clatfield."

The junior clerk took off his hat and put it on again the right way by mistake. In his confusion he had not observed that Hiram Clatfield looked frigidly above his head; he only heard the cashier's voice continuing like enchanted music:

"Mr. Clatfield has for some time been looking for a private secretary.

The salary would be commensurate with the responsibility from the first, and should you prove the right man--but of course we would make no promises. Do you think you would be disposed to consider such an opening?"

"Would I?" gasped the junior clerk.

"And, by the way, you are not married, are you?"

"No," said the young man, "I'm not, but----"

"That's good," continued the cashier. "That's very fortunate, for Mr.

Clatfield prefers that his confidential secretaries should be single men. In fact, he makes that an absolute condition."

"The deuce he does!" replied the junior clerk. "Then he can give the place to anyone but me. There comes my yellow car. Good-night, and much obliged."