And as he stood taking a longing look through the fine plate glass windows where he could see several men at work on the books, and the cashier just getting ready to wait on the first customer of the morning, who should come tripping along the street but consequential Charles Doty, the boy who ran messages for the bank, and made himself generally useful between times, looking toward the time when he was to be elevated to the president's chair, as he often whimsically declared.
Charles was prone to indulge in early morning naps, and there were times when he could be seen sneaking into the bank long after he was supposed to be at work. Still, he could stir himself when the necessity arose, and thus far had managed to hold his position.
At sight of Dick looking so longingly into the bank he was brought to a sudden halt, and something like suspicion flashed into his eyes.
Doubtless he knew of the other's yearning toward the life of a bank clerk, and it may be that he feared Dick was about to try and supplant him in the job he had been holding so long.
At any rate Charles, though already late, thought it good policy to stop and engage his friend in a brief conversation, meaning to convince Dick as to the utter folly of ever thinking he could obtain a situation under so strict a business man as Mr. Gibbs.
"Hello! Dick. What you thinking about now? Look like you meant to come around here some fine night and swipe the entire business. Beware of bulldogs and traps for the unwary, my boy. We keep a heavy guard over our millions," he laughed.
Dick showed no signs of resentment, knowing that this was only boyish badinage, and he understood Charles even better than the other imagined.
"Don't lie awake nights for fear of my breaking in and running off with your whole establishment, Charlie. I haven't even got the price of the wagon that might be needed to cart away the gold. But I did have designs on the place, in one way. Do you happen to know how business is just now, and whether the bank has need of any more help? I'd be willing to act as porter, or anything else for the sake of getting started in there," with a wistful look through the open window toward the busy interior of the enclosure where the cashier and teller were working like a hive of busy bees.
"I guess the porter racket hasn't a leg to stand on, for you see they've got a man and his family on the payroll, and he looks after the furnace in the winter, as well as does all the sweeping out and such menial tasks. But it might be possible that they could make room for you as my assistant. You see duties have kept piling up on me all the time, and I'm the hardest worked man in the institution just at the present minute."
Charles did not even smile as he made this monstrous assertion; he saw his opportunity for tying the hands of the other, and was slyly playing his little game with that idea in view.