Mr. Spaythe stood regarding his son silently for a moment. He reflected that the boy had behaved admirably these past few days, filling Mr. Boothe’s place quite effectively. The banker was also engaged with other matters that required his immediate attention. So he said:
“Very well. Go, if you wish to.”
Eric accompanied his father into the private office, merely bestowing upon Phil a nod of farewell. It was rather mean of him to take a vacation and throw all the work of bookkeeping upon young Daring, but Eric was not noted for his consideration to others.
Pausing before his father’s desk he said in a hesitating way:
“I suppose it’s all right to leave Phil in charge of the cash?”
Mr. Spaythe turned upon him, sharply.
“Why not?” he said. “The Darings are honest enough. I would have trusted his father with every penny I owned, at any time.”
“Oh, I suppose Phil’s safe,” returned Eric, carelessly. “But he’s a new clerk, and there’s a lot of currency on hand to carry over Sunday. So the thought struck me—”
He paused, for his father was paying no attention to what he said. Instead, his practiced eye was shrewdly scanning the balance sheet. It told the amount of cash on hand in bills, gold and silver, and recorded all checks, drafts and notes deposited during the day. Finding the tally correct Mr. Spaythe laid down the paper and turned again to his son.