"There are two kinds that eventually get the best that the bank has—that's little enough: First, the willies with a pull, and second, the sissies who siss. The fellow with originality and get-up is choked off, sooner or later. He usually manages to offend head office early in his career, and the rest of his bank life is—like mine! There are occasional lucky ones, as you say; but personally I'm not very strong for charms and stars. A fellow who has nothing stronger than luck to bank on may make a good race-track tout or fortune heeler, but not a business man. Don't work for any corporation or at any job where you're, so far as the position itself is concerned, dispensable; unless you are necessary to your employer, whether he be a magnate or an acre of land, jump the job."
Castle was passing.
"Key," he said, in his falsetto-femina voice, "you're too slow at that calling. The clearing men need Nelson on a machine from now on. You'll have to do less talking and faster work."
The grey-haired clerk reddened, but said nothing, aloud. What he said under his breath was sulphur-tipped.
It seemed to Key that every time the boys took a minute off to discuss personal affairs or the world outside the bank, a jealous bank demon showed its teeth.
The sentiments of Robb and Key made quite an impression on Nelson, but he argued that where there was so much said against the bank there must be a good deal to be said in its favor. He might have used the same argument with reference to a national evil, for instance.
"Hey, Nelson!" called Marks of the C's, "are you nearly through there? We're in an awful mess here with the C—— Bank. Their clearing is balled every day."
"All right," replied the cash-book man, leaving a few odds and ends of his own work, "is it the Queen Street branch again?"
"Yes," said Cantel; "I think it's too near the Asylum grounds."
The savings man turned around and chuckled. "Mutt and Jeff get quite humorous at times," he said, pointing to tall Marks and short Cantel.