“Good-evening, Adrian. Has your mother come home?”
“No, father. I left—well, I left rather suddenly. In any case, you know, she was to stop for the night with Kate. But I came, right after dinner, because I want to have a talk with you. Are you equal to it, to-night, sir?”
The banker flashed a suspicious glance upward, then relapsed into his former pose. Memories of previous disagreeable “talks” with this, his only son, arose, but Adrian anticipated his remark.
“Nothing wrong with me, this time, father, I hope. I am trying to learn the business and to like it. I——”
“Have you any money, Adrian?”
“A little. What is left of my salary; more than I should have if mother hadn’t fitted my wardrobe out so well. A clerk even in your bank doesn’t earn a princely sum, you remember; not at first.”
It was a well-known fact, upon the “street,” that the employees of “Wadislaw’s” received almost niggardly payment. Wadislaw, himself had the reputation of penuriousness, and that his family had lived in the style they had was because Mrs. Wadislaw’s personal income paid expenses.
“Put it away. Put it away where nobody can find it. There are more robbers than honest men in the country. Once I was robbed, myself. Of an enormous sum. I have never recovered from that set-back. We should not have gotten on at all but for your mother. Your mother is a very good woman, Adrian.”
“Why, yes, father. Of course. The very best in the world, I believe. She has only one fault, she will make me go into society, and I dislike it. Otherwise, she’s simply perfect.”
“Yes, yes. But she watches me too closely, boy. Don’t let your wife be a spy upon you, lad.”