“Certainly. Bring them right along.”
When he got into the office he put out chairs for them, but every thing was so neat and elegant that Thompson did not want to sit down; but he kept a close watch of Carl, and seeing that the latter promptly seated himself, he finally followed his example.
“I have not read your father’s letter yet,” said the president, “and if you will excuse me I will do it now. I have only read that he is dead, but I can hardly realize it. Did he die suddenly?”
“It was sudden enough when it came, but I suppose he lingered along as all men do who are suffering from that disease,” answered Carl. “It seems he thought that the letter would tell who I was.”
“Oh, I would have known you anyway. If I see a man’s face once, I can always remember him.”
The president then went on reading the letter, and when he got through he was ready for business.
“I suppose you want some money,” he said briskly. “Make out a check for what you want and you can have it.”
Carl took the paper and the pen that were passed over to him and speedily made out his check for ten thousand dollars. The president looked at it to make sure that it was all right, and went into the room where the cashier was. When he came out he had a big roll of bills in his hands.
“I suppose you want to pay the terms of the will with this, and so I have got it in small bills,” said he.
“That is all right,” said Carl. “Thank you, I don’t want to go over it. I wish you would count out fifteen hundred dollars and give it to my cousin here, Claude Preston. He comes in for one share.”