"Very well, thank you, Mr. Nelson. By the way, do you like picnics?"
Bill kicked him from behind.
"Yes—yes, indeed," said Evan, quickly.
"Well, we girls are getting one up for Saturday afternoon. Could you and Mr. Watson come?"
Bill rushed up to the savings wicket.
"Could we?" he cried, smiling at the dark-haired girl. "Can we?"
"All right," said Julia, with color; "we're going to meet at our place."
De Maupassant and the dictionary were doomed. Bill warmed up to the junior ledgerman now that the latter was growing sociable. He periodically forgot to put a cheque through during bank hours, preferring to do his business through Evan.
Miss Watersea's picnic happened, and it was a good one. Evan enjoyed himself so well he forgot to write Frankie her weekly letter. He would have had to mention Julia in it, anyway, and perhaps it was as well to omit writing altogether.
The girl Bill called his was something like Lou Nelson. Evan felt at home in her company, but she did not attract him in the same way Julia did. Hazel Morton had more fire in her than either Lou or Julia—that, Evan said to himself, was how it was she held Bill Watson. Bill was not at all easy to hold.