"I wish I was on the cash like you, Jack," grinned Watson.
"What would you do?"
"Why, borrow a little occasionally. You didn't get me wrong, I hope?"
"No chance, Bill; we know you're honest."
The dance given by the bankboys of Mt. Alban was a success—in all but a financial way. The thing did not pay for itself, and there was an extra draft on each banker for two dollars. Even wrote home for a loan of five dollars. He also hinted that he needed a new suit, that he felt shabby at parties beside the private banker's son and the haberdasher's nephew. A cheque came signed "George Nelson"; it was twenty-five dollars high. Evan sighed. Then he slowly folded the cheque into his wallet.
He ordered a suit from one of the town tailors and paid ten dollars down.
Bill Watson usually wrote the cash book and the cash items. He saw the cheque from Hometon and made mental note of it. A day or two later he asked Evan for a loan to pay the bank guarantee premium, and got five dollars.
When his suit was finished Nelson was a few dollars short. He went on the tailor's books. The same night Julia Watersea called him up and asked him down. He felt obliged to take some candy along.
"How much should I spend for a box of chocolates, Bill?" he asked.
"Nothing less than a buck, kid," replied Bill, almost rendering his speech ambiguous.