CHAPTER III.
The next morning Tom Cooper came whistling into the bank. His future looked so bright, and did he not have his uncle’s permission to find the little lost girl? He went behind the glass window and found a notice upon his desk to call upon the president in his room, and without delay the lad ran into the rear of the building and tapped lightly upon a door marked, “T. D. Dalton.”
“You wished to see me, sir,” and then he stopped, for the grave face before him gave his heart a chill.
“Yes, lad; sit down.”
Tom Cooper slid into the chair, a strange feeling coming over him.
“Have you done anything to offend Mr. Benson?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Perfectly.”
“Something has happened then, for I have this in the morning mail.”