"I'm sorry for you, old kid," interrupted Watson, laughing; "give us your book, I'll add it up and maybe find your difference."
Sid Levison hesitated, picked his book up quietly, and faced Watson with:
"You're a yard wide, Bill. I wish we had more of you around here. I got in $50,000 in parcels this afternoon and Charon wouldn't send any relief. Gee, but I'm tired, and my hand pains infernally."
He yawned so widely his glasses fell off. Relieved of them, his face looked peaked and his eyes inflamed and weary.
"Meet Mr. Nelson from Banfield, Mr. Levison."
"How are you?" said the teller, offering his hand; "used to work there myself, years ago."
Then he turned to his money.
"How long has he been in the bank?" Evan asked Watson.
"About ten or twelve years, I think."
"He should be a manager by now."