“You know I’m in the National Bank,” said Bonny, shortly.
“Certainly I know that.”
“Grandma put me there a year ago. I don’t object to the bank, if I’ve got to work. It’s as easy as anything I could get, and I hate study.”
Roger nodded.
“Being in the bank, I’d like to rise,” Bonny went on, irritably, “but somehow or other there seems a little prejudice in the air against me. Has any one said anything to you?”
“Not a word.”
The boy drew a long breath. “Perhaps it’s partly imagination. They’re very down on fun in our bank. Now when hours are over, and I come out, there’s a whole gang of nice fellows ready to do anything that’s going. Sometimes we play billiards. On fine days we’re always on the river. There’s no harm in that, is there?”
“Not that I see,” observed Roger, cautiously.
“Then, when evening comes, and we want to sit down somewhere, we have a quiet little game of cards. There’s no harm in that, is there?”
“Do you play for money?”