"Then you had better see Mr. Goodwyn, the cashier. He has charge of all the employing; Mr. Gibbs never troubles himself in that line. First window around the corner there."
"But I have an engagement with Mr. Gibbs. He expects me at half-past ten this morning, sir," pursued Dick, beginning to feel a trifle alarmed lest after all something happen to disturb his rosy dreams of the future.
Mr. Winslow opened his eyes and once more condescended to peer out of his little window at the boy who made this astonishing statement.
"An engagement with Mr. Gibbs—well, of course, that alters the complexion of things considerably. We have no one to show you in just now. Open that door yonder and rap on the first one you see to the right. It will have the words 'President's Office, Private,' on it," he observed, looking more closely at Dick, and then smiling as though some thought gave him pleasure.
As the boy moved along Mr. Winslow turned to the other teller and said something in a low tone that caused him to grin broadly; and then give a quick look around in the direction of the desk where Dick had been told the cashier, Mr. Goodwyn, was stationed.
Dick found the door and the inscription, just as the teller had told him.
He drew in a long breath, set his teeth together, and then knocked boldly.
"Come in," some one said, and opening the door he found himself in the presence of the biggest magnate of Riverview, Mr. Gibbs, the banker.
Of course Dick had seen him many times before; but somehow he had always viewed Harvey Gibbs as one placed upon a pedestal, far removed from the common herd; as a boy he could understand such people as Ezra Squires and Mr. Graylock, but a silent man, known as a shrewd financier, was far beyond his ken.
Mr. Gibbs had been writing, but looking up as the boy entered he smiled pleasantly as though pleased with his appearance.