"There is a vacancy on your range. The assistant hallman is going home to-morrow. You would like the position?" he eyes me curiously.
"Yes."
"I'll consider it."
I rise weakly, but he detains me: "By the way, Berkman, look at this."
He holds up a small wooden box, disclosing several casts of plaster of paris. I wonder at the strange proceeding.
"You know what they are?" he inquires.
"Plaster casts, I think."
"Of what? For what purpose? Look at them well, now."
I glance indifferently at the molds bearing the clear impression of an eagle.
"It's the cast of a silver dollar, I believe."