"What, you want a position in my bank?" exclaimed the president, as Fred stated the purpose of his call.
"Yes, sir," replied the boy, missing the point of the question.
"I don't doubt it. I don't doubt it," mused Mr. Montgomery. "There are also several men in jail who would like to work in my bank—and I should as soon think of employing them as a Markham."
"Sir!" gasped Fred, squaring his shoulders.
But the president, the memory of Mrs. Baxter's affront to his wife rankling in his mind, revelled in the opportunity to excoriate the son of the man he had ruined.
"I can only attribute your impudence in applying to me for a position to your ignorance of the fact that your father stole more than a thousand dollars from this bank," he continued.
"That's not so, and you know it, Mr. Montgomery," retorted Fred angrily.
"Perhaps you can tell me who did take it, then?" sneered the president.
"Probably some of the men who come to the bank after hours," returned the boy calmly.
Unconsciously clasping the arms of his chair, Mr. Montgomery scanned the face of the boy searchingly. But it was as guileless as a doll's.