Sit down in the sun, my soul,
And talk of yourself to me.
John was a very poor machine, indeed.—Page [450].
THE MAN FROM THE MACHINE
By Judson Knox
I
I was early down at the bank that morning, as the day promised to be a sweltering one, and a little extra work in the cool of the forenoon would save a deal of discomfort later on.
So, by half-past eight, when Ted Lummis, the book-keeper, and Bill Ryan, who balanced pass-books and ran the appendix ledger, arrived, I had the safe open, and their ledgers, with fresh blotters, laid out ready for them on their desks.