“He looks much older, but his face looks natural. May I speak to him?”
“No; let me speak first. He knows me.”
“Good-day, Mr. Thatcher,” said the banker.
“Good-day, sir,” answered Thatcher, politely.
“I hope you are well.”
“Quite well, sir.”
His eyes rested upon Tom, and a puzzled expression swept over his face.
“Who is that?” he asked, abruptly.
“It is a young friend of mine. His name is Tom.”
“Where was it?” he continued, dreamily. “Tom! Tom! I once knew a boy of that name.”