"Are you in the habit of corresponding with anyone in Boston, Richard?"
"Not until a week ago, when a friend of mine who was in Florida the last time I heard from him wrote me from Boston. He addressed his letter to the bank because he said he understood from another fellow in Riverview he corresponded with that I was now employed here."
"Have you this letter?" continued the cashier, quietly.
Dick put his hand to his pocket and drew out an envelope, which he started to open, and then turned scarlet with mortification.
"I remember now that I was reading his letter again this morning while down near the river on an errand, a sudden gust of wind carried it out of my hand and over the fence. I had no time to hunt for it, and besides concluded it had blown into the river. But I kept the envelope to remember his address," he said.
Mr. Graylock laughed scornfully, almost triumphantly, Dick thought.
"Let me see that envelope, young man," he snarled, and having fairly snatched it out of Dick's hand he gave one glance and then held it up.
"Just what I thought! Look at that, will you, Mr. Goodwyn; up in the corner is this firm address: 'Cassidy and Prime, Stock Brokers, Boston!'"
The cashier took the envelope, and then said huskily:
"This begins to appear like a serious thing for you, Morrison. I really feel sorry for your mother. Sit down again; I am not yet through with you!"