were confused with dates of maturity, and everything but the amounts was topsy-turvy.

"You are, without a doubt," said Castle, turning away, as was his habit, without trying to pull the boys through their trouble, "the worst mess I ever came across." His remarks were addressed to Perry, particularly.

Evan went flat. It is thrillingly unpleasant to find yourself an incompetent in the routine of an office when you could with ease recite Hugo's verses in French and write a long treatise on the Punic Wars. Evan inwardly shuddered. Perry stood beside him grinning and muttering imprecations on the teller.

"What difference does it make how you enter them?" he said, and grabbing a handful of drafts, stamped them at random with the bank's endorsement stamp and the "C" stamp.

Evan stood looking out of the back window. A robin, digging for food on a grassy plot, raised his bright little eyes to the bankclerk, as much as to say:

"Come on out, old chap. You'll never find anything to eat in that dark, musty place!"

As he gazed on the gay bird Evan remembered lessons from his childhood reader. His mind persisted in flying back to school-days. Why? Did he still crave knowledge? Was he hungry for something he knew the bank would never give him?

Years later Evan knew why his mind had dwelt upon the dear days of school life. At school he had had scope for his imagination and his genius, in the writings of poet and historian, inventor and novelist. He could drink as deeply as he would of the fountain of learning, and still the springs would be there for him, soothing, refreshing.

Not so in the bank. Although 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 justifiable.

Castle looked at him with real anger, and came out of his cage.

"You darn young pup!" he exclaimed menacingly.

Watson raised his voice in a loud laugh, and drew the teller's attention to the new man. Mr. Robb came back to the cage for some change,—and the storm did not mature.

Evan was not relieved. He wanted to have a row with Castle. But it was not the teller he worried about back at his own desk: it was himself. He was ignorant! With all his high-school education and his big marks in languages he did not know that combinations should not be wound, or that three-dollar bills were not somewhere in circulation. There was knowledge for him in the bank, after all!

And he decided to make that knowledge his. He applied himself to the office books, after that, and fought against the desire to quit and go back to school. He would ask questions about everything and know all there was to know.

CHAPTER II.

SWIPE DAYS.

When Nelson was able to take out the collections Porter found himself in line for the savings ledger. It never occurred to the Bonehead that elevation was apt to bring added responsibilities; he thought only of the promotion. Nothing now mattered except the fact that J. Porter Perry was a ledger keeper. He managed to drop the information in every store on his last trip round with the bills, and proclaimed his successor in a tone that was very irritating to the new "swipe."

Evan ground his teeth—but thought of Frankie. He spoke respectfully to all the bank's customers, and tried to act like a gentleman, on the street. In a week's time he knew every merchant in town well enough to speak to him, and had overcome the giggles and whisperings of counter girls.

Mornings were always bright enough to him. When he first wakened a kind of pall usually settled about his lonesome crib, but the May sunlight soon helped him forget that he was "out in the world alone." He knew that his father would gladly send him money and stand by him no matter what happened. This was great consolation, although Evan did not admit to himself that it was. He wanted to be an independent man, as his forefathers had been; he was unwilling to have his father support him any longer by store-labor. When he reflected that soon he would be able to keep himself and make little gifts to his mother and sister he took courage and forged through whatever difficulty happened to be in the way.

Evan had seen college boys fritter away their time, miss examinations repeatedly and get into trouble that cost their fathers dearly. He determined that he would keep clear of youthful mixups and try to save his money, to show his parents that he appreciated what they had done for him, and to repay them, as well as he could, for what they had given him. Sometimes he thought he had made a mistake in going into a bank, but he felt, at that, that it was a brave and unselfish thing to do, and he thought he saw wherein banking had many advantages over school life. He could get an education behind the wicket and the iron railing that would make him self-reliant. This idea fixed itself firmly in his mind.

Homesickness still bothered him, of course. It made itself most strongly felt after meals, like a species of gout. A youth, especially a bankclerk, usually enjoys a good appetite; there is considerable excitement about satisfying it. But when bodily hunger is appeased the mind has leisure to satisfy itself or to feel dissatisfied. Evan could not throw off the gloom that settled on him in the afternoons and evenings. He saw and heard constantly that which reminded him of home and those he loved best. But he did not succumb to the torture. He faced his trials and resolved to make good.

While Nelson was battling against foes seen and unseen, Perry was engaged in gladiatorial combat with a savings