Mr. Young insisted on John's leaving early for lunch, and staying as
long as he pleased.
"Well, George, I will," said the latter, "because my work's all done
up ahead of time—B & A bills counted" (and he pointed to a heap of
vile-smelling green-backs, neatly sorted into little packages, and lying
at one side) "and pay-rolls all made up. And I'll stay, too, if they
want me."
However, he was back sharp at half-past one; and came in with two
packages of dry goods under his arm. These he hurriedly secreted in a
cupboard under the counter, though from the solicitude with which he
handled them, I judged that he would almost have preferred to lock them
up in the vault. Bill (and the occurrence did not seem strange then)
made no comments of any sort during this proceeding.
Then he went out back, put on his linen jacket, and in a moment replaced
Al at the counter, and the hustling commenced again.
From now on, until a quarter to four, John did all the talking. The
rest of us were too much occupied in obeying his orders. I never knew
him so voluble. He must first tell us about the state of affairs at
home. Everything was doing finely; baby lusty and thriving, wife in
good spirits, and "almost strong enough to get up," nurse scarcely
needed, doctor still less. Then a list of his congratulations, and an
account of Mrs. Makeator's visitors during the morning; and finally,
as the choicest bit of news, and typical of the generally satisfactory
condition of things, his wife's declaration that he must not bother
about her and the baby, but go up to the park with the rest of us and
see the ball-game.
All this was gone over a dozen times to us; and once, at least, to every
customer whom he knew. While telling it, too, he thumbed his bills,
checked off deposit tickets, received telephone messages from me, and
directed the answering of them; bossed Bill, Ted, and Al about, as he
had never done before, and never once asked the cashier's or president's
advice on any topic—a circumstance entirely new in our experience of
him.
At a quarter to four we were ready to strike a balance. Al, with the
result of his half of the figuring (with which John's counter-book
should agree), stood peering over the little man's shoulder. Bill, by
force of habit mainly (for he looked forlorn enough), was behind John
on the other side. Ted and I pressed up close, too; and Mr. Young sat
at his table quietly, watching the group of us.
At these times John was generally very nervous; and frequently the mere
consciousness of having all of us at his back flustered him so that he
could not make his last deduction correctly. But his hour of triumph
was now at hand, and he knew it and rose manfully to the occasion. He
worked imperturbably and without the slightest trace of annoyance; nor
was there the least hesitancy in the rapid tappings of his pen; and he
made his footings with a decision which showed how thoroughly confident
he was of the correctness of his calculations.
When he was done he said, "All right, Al. How is it?" and Al read off
his balance.
John jotted it down in pencil beside his own, and subtracted.
"847.43," he said.
"Over?" asked the cashier from his table.
"No; short, George," and without waiting to prove his own work, John
jumped over to Bill's clearing-books, and began footing them.
Bill and Ted and Al (Bill in front) pounced on John's book; but they
had barely time to put pencil to it before John cried out:
"Seven less on the credit!" and Bill had the pleasure of correcting his
own mistake on John's book.
[Illustration: He knew perfectly, poor fellow, his incompetence.—Page
449.]
"Footing?" he queried, moodily.
"Yes," said John, without looking up, as he ran his pencil down another
row of figures.
"Seven cents on the 'first' footing," he called again, almost
immediately. "More on the credit this time, Bill. Makes it just 850.50,
doesn't it?"
Bill, however, did not answer, but edged out between Ted and Al, and
went to work on his own pass-books, errors in which did not appear "in
cash."
Then John called to me to check the listing while he read off the
clearings. Here, again, we found two mistakes, an inversion and another,
which reduced the discrepancy to about fifty dollars.
This time John did not announce the mistake (for, with his growing
assurance, all desire for public vindication and acquittal had left
him), but went and "fixed" it himself.
Ted and Al had, long since, given up the search at the counter; and the
latter, who was entering into the fun of the moment, cried laughingly,
after going over my draft-registers,
"All right, Jim!" and then to Mr. Young, "Bill didn't take your bet,
did he, George?"
"No," laughed the cashier in his turn, and added, "Better help us on
'cash,' Bill. Your books will wait."
Bill, crestfallen, marched over to his clearing-books, and gazed
sheepishly at the corrections on them in John's handwriting.
John then discovered an error in Al's "Redemption" letter, which Al
good-humoredly acknowledged; and, shortly after, one "on" Mr. Young
himself.
This left us only a few cents out, so the cashier cried, "All right,
boys. Let her go. You'll see seven innings of the game if you hurry."
[Illustration: John jotted it down.—Page 453.]
"Why, aren't you going, too, George?" exclaimed John with evident
disappointment. "I wanted to treat you this afternoon," and he pulled
out of his pocket one of the new bank-notes which had come in just a
few days ago.
[Illustration: It was too hot for talk.—Page 455.]
"Sorry, John, but I've got some back work I must make up. And I want
you to stay, too, Jim, and slice the rest of these green-backs. Habinger
was late in signing them, you know."
This was, in some measure, a fresh disappointment to John (as it was a
very great one to me), for I could see he wanted to take the whole of
us. Al and Ted had already accepted.
Finally he went up to Bill and asked timidly and expectantly: "You're
going, too, aren't you Bill?"
But Bill refused the offer snarlingly, and mumbling something in a
priggish tone about playing golf, left the bank without another word.
Five minutes later the others had gone, too. As they went out, John
cried:
"I'll stop in on the way back to get my wheel. You'll be here, George?"
"Yes. See you later, John. Good luck to you."