GREAT NEWS
Sitting there in the easy chair Dick read the few lines that composed
the letter which his mother must have taken from the rural delivery man
at the door. It was in typewriting too, and signed with the name of
Harvey Gibbs.
"RICHARD MORRISON: I understand that you are
seeking a position. Will you call upon me Friday
morning about half-past ten."
That was all; but it could not have given that boy more of an electric
shock had it been a communication of a thousand words.
What did it mean?
He read it again and again, and gradually the only explanation that
could be attached to so clear a request came into his mind--why, they
meant to offer him a position in the bank--his dream seemed in a fair
way of being realized.
Was it Charles who had done this--could it be possible that the boasting
one really did have more or less influence with the president?
He smiled at the thought.
Then his mind roved in another direction, and he realized that after all
his humane act of the previous day must be bearing fruit; Bessie and her
mother had told Mr. Gibbs about the saving of the wonderful Benjy from a
watery grave, and no doubt also related how the boy had declined to take
any money as a reward for his kind deed; then one of them must have
mentioned the fact that Dick had said he was looking for work, and this
had led the banker to write to him.
It was glorious, and he jumped up to meet his mother, whom he discovered
coming through the back garden just then.
She was surprised to see him home.
"No use telling me you have been successful, my boy, for your face tells
the story better than words," she declared, laying down a dish in which
she had doubtless carried some little tempting dainty to the sick woman;
they might not have much themselves; but there were always others worse
off.
Dick put his hand in his pocket and drawing it out, said:
"Guess how much for my morning's catch?"
"A dollar," she replied, always entering into the spirit of his
pleasantry.
"More."
"And a half then?"
"Still short, mom, try again."
"Not two, Dick?" with delight in her eyes.
He emptied his hand into her waiting ones.
"Two dollars and twenty cents. I consider that I had pretty fair luck
for bass fishing. You know how freakish they are about biting. I had
made up my mind I'd give them a whirl to-morrow, but now I find it will
be impossible. My other engagements are too pressing."
She looked at him as though puzzled to guess his meaning, whereupon
Dick, unable to restrain himself any longer, snatched up the precious
letter and held it for her to see.
When she managed to make out its contents she stared at him, half
laughing and crying at the same time.
"How splendid! And just what you have always wished, Dick. Oh! I'm so
glad! How nice of Mrs. Gibbs, and--Bessie!" she exclaimed; for her
woman's intuition had instantly jumped at the truth which Dick had only
reached after more or less floundering in the mire.
Her dear arms were immediately around his neck, and Dick knew that,
pleased as he might be at the fortunate happening, his feelings could
never keep pace with hers.
He could think of nothing else the balance of the day, while doing some
little work in the garden; and scores of times he figuratively hugged
himself in congratulation over his good luck.
Dick did not dig any more bait; in fact he was careful to put away his
poles and lines, because, as he said to his mother, if he expected to go
into the business harness now he would have little time for fishing.
That evening was a long one to him.
He thought it would never come time to retire; and after he snuggled
down in bed it seemed as if he could not settle to sleep, so many things
kept popping up in his mind to engage his attention.
But morning came at last.
Dick was up early, and started to dig some more ground in the garden,
for the last planting of vegetables, beans and late corn.
"At any rate," he said at breakfast, as he leaned back and looked at his
mother happily, "the hours are not early in a bank, so that I shall have
plenty of time to do the chores around, and even look after my part of
the garden before going to work."
"There will not be a great deal to do from now on that I cannot manage,
my boy. I shall want you to keep your mind principally on your business,
and, whatever it may be, do it with your whole soul. I expect to live to
see you at the top rung of the ladder some day, Dick. You have your
father's perseverance, and the desire to do everything as well as any
person could possibly do it. I do not fear for your future," she said,
proudly.
About ten o'clock Dick started out.
He was trembling a little as he kissed his mother, and there was a tear
of sympathy in her eye when she waved him goodbye as he turned around
down the road to look back.
If ever a mother's prayers and good wishes went out after her boy those
of Mrs. Morrison followed him as he strode manfully along, with his head
held erect and the light of determination in his eyes.
When he drew near the bank he swerved and passed along, but not from
timidity; it lacked seven minutes of the time Mr. Gibbs had set, and
Dick had learned that a busy man is often almost as much annoyed by a
premature caller as by one who keeps him waiting.
So the town clock was just striking the half hour when he walked into
the bank.
Dick had been inside the place more than once, on some errand for his
mother; but it had never looked just as it did on this morning, when he
surveyed it as the possible field of his future industries.
He went over to the teller's window.
"Good morning, Mr. Winslow, can I see Mr. Gibbs?" he asked.
The receiving teller glanced quickly up, for when any one asked to see
the president personally it usually meant particular business.
To his surprise the speaker was only a boy; and as he recognized Dick he
shook his head a little dubiously in the negative.
"Mr. Gibbs is a busy man, generally, and unless you have some very
important business with him I hardly think he could see you," he
replied.
"But my business is important, to me anyway. I have come to see him
about a position here," said Dick, calmly.
"Then you had better see Mr. Goodwyn, the cashier. He has charge of all
the employing; Mr. Gibbs never troubles himself in that line. First
window around the corner there."
"But I have an engagement with Mr. Gibbs. He expects me at half-past ten
this morning, sir," pursued Dick, beginning to feel a trifle alarmed
lest after all something happen to disturb his rosy dreams of the
future.
Mr. Winslow opened his eyes and once more condescended to peer out of
his little window at the boy who made this astonishing statement.
"An engagement with Mr. Gibbs--well, of course, that alters the
complexion of things considerably. We have no one to show you in just
now. Open that door yonder and rap on the first one you see to the
right. It will have the words 'President's Office, Private,' on it," he
observed, looking more closely at Dick, and then smiling as though some
thought gave him pleasure.
As the boy moved along Mr. Winslow turned to the other teller and said
something in a low tone that caused him to grin broadly; and then give a
quick look around in the direction of the desk where Dick had been told
the cashier, Mr. Goodwyn, was stationed.
Dick found the door and the inscription, just as the teller had told
him.
He drew in a long breath, set his teeth together, and then knocked
boldly.
"Come in," some one said, and opening the door he found himself in the
presence of the biggest magnate of Riverview, Mr. Gibbs, the banker.
Of course Dick had seen him many times before; but somehow he had always
viewed Harvey Gibbs as one placed upon a pedestal, far removed from the
common herd; as a boy he could understand such people as Ezra Squires
and Mr. Graylock, but a silent man, known as a shrewd financier, was far
beyond his ken.
Mr. Gibbs had been writing, but looking up as the boy entered he smiled
pleasantly as though pleased with his appearance.
"Sit down here a minute or two, Richard, until I finish this paper,
which is of importance, and requires my signature later. I will be ready
to talk with you presently," he said, moving a chair out in a kindly
way.
So Dick waited, meanwhile looking curiously around him at the luxurious
office, which, in his eyes was as finely furnished as any palace could
be.
He was pleased to think that his business was to be transacted with Mr.
Gibbs in person rather than through the medium of the teller, Ross
Goodwyn, a small keen-eyed young-old man with a bald head, and doubtless
the capacity to fit him for his responsible job, but whom Dick had never
liked; twice he had talked with him on matters connected with his
mother's affairs, and each time the cashier had seemed to take a cruel
pleasure in making him "feel small," as Dick himself expressed it.
Still, if he was to come into this institution as an employee he would
have to get over this feeling toward Mr. Goodwyn, who undoubtedly would
have considerable to do with him.
That three minutes seemed an age to poor Dick, settled on the anxious
seat.
Finally the banker sat up and rang a bell, whereupon one of the tellers
made his appearance, the document was signed, and then as Mr. Payson
went out Dick found himself alone with the head of the firm.
"Now I can give you a few minutes' time, Richard. Please move your chair
a little closer, so that we need not talk so loud. It is rather a
peculiar combination that is responsible for your appearance here this
morning," he said, pleasantly; and somehow the boy lost all his former
fear for the usually austere banker.