Evan had given up hoping that Castle would favor him with a private interview; in another day the official would be gone, to repeat his tortures on some other unsuspecting branch.
"What do you think of it, Gordon?" asked Henty.
"Of what?"
"It, i-t."
"You mean the inspection?"
"Your foot's asleep—sure; did you think I was talking about the World's Series?"
"I don't mind the extra work," said Filter; "you see, that's the difference between a good man and a bum one."
"Ugh!" said Henty, slapping his own cheek, "Right on the transmitter!" He turned toward the teller and suggested a walk around the Banfield pond, called a lake.
"It will do you good, Evan," he said.
A few nights' companionship had made the teller and junior chums; had accomplished more in that respect than months of office association had done. Henty sometimes called Nelson "Even." He said he thought the nickname was a good one; in the first place it meant a poetic summer evening; and in the second place it looked like the masculine gender for Eve. The night Henty enlarged on the probable derivation of his friend's name, Nelson laughed Mrs. Terry awake. It was the time of night when anything sounds funny to the one who cannot fall asleep.