"What of them?" asked the banker crossly. "You need not look far to see a fellow and a girl."
The fellow in this case was tall and stoutly built, and the fact that he wore no overcoat might have been set down to strenuous habits. But as Mr. Wattles noted, he was the only man without an evening paper, and he wore his derby hat reversed in order that a worn place on the rim might be less conspicuous.
"I'll bet that young man is terribly hard up," remarked Mr. Wattles.
"You don't want me to adopt him, do you?" demanded Mr. Clatfield.
"Oh, no, but just see how his shoulder is getting soaked with drippings from the wet umbrella."
"That's the girl's fault," said Mr. Clatfield. "I guess he wishes she were home."
She was a plain girl with freckles on her nose; she carried a lunch basket and her gloves were white about the seams, but as the young man whispered something in her ear even Mr. Clatfield thought that he had never seen a more attractive smile. When a blue car came along the young man helped her carefully to mount the step, and in shaking hands they laughed and made a little secret of the act. As the car went on its way the young man ran for cover to the awning beneath which stood the banker and the cashier.
"Good-evening, sir," said Mr. Wattles. "I have seen you often at the bank."
"Oh, yes, indeed," replied the other, highly gratified to be recognized by one so great as Mr. Wattles. "I am there every day for my employers, Pullman & Pushings."
"An excellent firm," commented Mr. Wattles. "I understand they pay their people handsomely."