They entered the bank, and Mrs. Merton, going to the window of the paying teller, presented a check for a hundred dollars.
"How will you have it, Mrs. Merton?" asked the teller.
"In fives and tens. By the way, Mr. Northrop, please take notice of this boy with me. I shall occasionally send him by himself to attend to my business. His name is Luke Walton."
"His face looks familiar. I think we have met before."
"I have sold you papers more than once, Mr. Northrop," said Luke. "I stand on Clark Street, near the Sherman."
"Yes, I remember, now. We bank officials are apt to take notice of faces."
"Here, Luke, carry this money for me," said Mrs. Merton, putting a lady's pocketbook into the hand of her young escort. "You are less likely to be robbed than I."
Luke was rather pleased at the full confidence his new employer seemed to repose in him.
"I am now going up on State Street," said Mrs. Merton, as they emerged into the street. "You know the store of Marshall Field?"
"Oh, yes; everybody in Chicago knows that," said Luke.