For two weeks after the affair of the silver, Penton surpassed himself in signing his name. Also he took a social turn, and began once more to hypnotize the good people of Banfield. He had a faculty for ingratiating himself with people who were not great students of human nature. The town mayor was a particularly easy victim of his.
"Hello, Mr. Muir," Penton would say as the mayor entered the office, "I'm glad to see you looking so well. How's Mrs. Muir? I understand you are doing big things on the dam." (Here Henty would emphatically repeat the word from his desk in the rear of the office.) The mayor would grin and begin divulging municipal secrets. Penton always made a point of talking loudly with Muir and laughing yet more vociferously at his jokes.
There were women in Banfield, too, who were not impervious to Penton's flattery. He had a way of looking into their eyes and speaking softly that charmed them.
Nelson knew that Penton could have managed the branch well if he had gone to work; Penton was, evidently, familiar with the great circus man's aphorism about humbugging people, and could have given them all they wanted of it—to the bank's profit. It was, no doubt, owing to this hypocritical asset and the appreciation of it by head office officials, that Penton was managing a branch.
There is a certain stock-company actor in the States who periodically goes on a spree, comes back and weeps to his audience, and is forgiven. That is virtually what Penton was doing. He had hit upon the scheme as by inspiration, and it worked well. He asked a young dentist and wife down to his apartments behind the bank and fêted them on the best in town. Above all, he flattered them, and he made Mrs. Penton help him do it. She was, in fact, blind to the greater part of his badness, and was so anxious to help him into the favor of Banfield's best customers that she was willing to do a little wrong in his behalf. The surprise he perpetrated on her and the town, his new policy of ingratiation, gave her hope and made her rather proud of his versatility. She was very agreeable indeed to the dentist and his wife.
In a little town like Banfield good tidings spread just as rapidly as bad, among the better souls. News of the Pentons' hospitality and geniality went abroad until many of the ladies of Banfield desired to see more of Mrs. Penton, and, incidentally, her husband. Using the dentist's wife as a medium, they secured introductions to Mrs. Penton. Soon pink-teas began to be stylish.
It was about a fortnight after the affair of the silver. Mrs. Penton was giving a euchre party (whist was unknown in Banfield, and bridge was considered a sin) for the big dogs and ladies of Banfield. Her husband was the biggest dog of the bunch; he had gone so far as to deck himself in a dress-suit, and his stiff collar was almost the shape of a cuff.
The staff, of course, was invited, and had to go. Evan would gladly have stayed away, but he was afraid of hurting Mrs. Penton's feelings. She gave him a special invitation. He loathed the thought of drinking Penton's cocoa and eating his food. He well knew that the manager had counted on getting business—and forgiveness—for every mouthful of his miserable provender. Also, he was quite sure that the cocoa was either unpaid for or had been bought out of a mysterious silver package.
The teller played cards, for a while, at the same table as Penton, and saw him smirk down upon his guests as no one, surely, but W. W. Penton ever smirked. Evan felt that he would suffocate unless he got away from that table. He wished he could stand on a chair and reveal the character of the manager as he knew it—but a smile from Mrs. Penton reached him, and he filled with pity for her. He knew that a revelation of Penton's real character would sound as strange to her as to any person there. She knew her husband had "faults," but what does that common word signify to a woman in love? The atmosphere became too stifling for Evan. He felt his head throb and threaten to ache. He excused himself, to take air.
He went out through the office and threw open the front door of the bank. It was a clear April night; the air was cool and fresh.