“There now, put all that touchy pride in your pocket, Roderick. By jingo, you’re worse than Banker Miller himself. But I took the old gentleman down a few pegs the afternoon he learned that you were in Wyoming,” Whitley rambled on, laughing. “He declared that I must have known your hiding place all the time.”
“And you answered?”
“Owned up at once, of course. Told him that others besides himself could be trusted with a confidence—that neither he nor anybody else could have bulldosed me into betraying a client. A client—that’s what I called you, old man. Oh, you can’t give me business points nowadays. What do you think he said in reply?”
“Ordered you out of the room, I suppose.”
“Not on your life! Commended my sagacity, my trustworthiness; told me again that I was a born banker, one after his own heart. And to show that he meant what he said, he raised my salary five dollars a week, and handed me over fifty dollars extra spending money for this trip. What do you think of that?”
“I can’t express a thought—I’m too much surprised over the whole train of events.”
“Oh, I suppose he knew I’d have to buy a few boxes of candy for the beautiful Wyoming girls,” Whitley went on. “I had told him after my first trip here that they were regular stunners—that they had been buzzing about me like flies around a pot of honey. Oh, he laughed all right. I know how to manage the old fellow—was half afraid he’d be coming along himself instead of sending me this time. But he bade me tell you he couldn’t possibly get away from Keokuk just now. Which reminds me—here’s your letter, old man; and one, too, from Aunt Lois. She saw me off at the train, and gave me a kiss to pass on to you.” Whitley, a bunch of letters in his hand, made a movement as if to bestow upon Roderick the osculatory salute with which he had been entrusted. But Roderick, smiling in spite of himself, pushed him back.
“You irrepressible donkey: Hand over my letters.”
“Oh, yes, the letters.” Whitley began to sort the bunch of correspondence. “This is for Buell Hampton. And this is for Ben Bragdon. I suppose he’s in town?”
“Yes. But he’s pretty busy.”