"You didn't tell me he was here," said Evan.
"Didn't I? Well, it wasn't very important anyway. I forgot you ever knew Castle. I'd like to forget him myself. Without kidding, Nelson, he is the best imitation of a sissy I ever saw. He has a pull, though, and it almost makes him brave, sometimes. I don't say anything to him any more—he'd have me fired, and I need the little fifteen dollars per week, minus guarantee premiums."
Bill had wasted a minute, so he cut off short and delved into the cash book once more, muttering curses on the third teller, who was out in the additions of his teller's cash book.
Castle entered the bank about 9.15. He wore a light tweed suit, a light felt hat, tan gloves, tan shoes, and a black necktie stuck with a pearl pin. The juniors, who had been indulging in an early row over the condition of the copying rags, sobered down when Castle's narrow form glided through the inner door.
Evan, who had been watching for him, went toward him easily, and held out his hand.
"Well, Nelson," said Castle, without offering to shake hands, "you'll go on the cash book."
Evan lingered a moment, expecting to be asked a personal question, even if it were a careless one; but Alfred dived into his mail and did not pause as he added: "Watson will break you in."
"And if ever I get the chance," thought Evan, "I'll break you in."
With that and other hostile reflections he turned and walked to the rear of the office.
"Bill," he said, "I'm to go on your job. What do you suppose they'll do with you?"