Thomas Morrison might not have been able to lay up a fortune before he
was called to another world; but he had at least won for himself the
regard and esteem of his neighbors during all the years he labored in
and around Riverview.
Presently Dick was being instructed in his duties by one of the friendly
tellers.
While this was going on the cashier came out of his little room.
"Who's this boy, Payson?" he asked, frowning at Dick.
"I think you know me, Mr. Goodwyn; I am Mrs. Morrison's son. I have been
in to see you several times on business," returned Dick, calmly.
"But what are you doing inside the railing now?" continued the cashier.
"Mr. Gibbs has given him the place of the messenger boy, Charles, Mr.
Goodwyn," remarked the teller, a little vindictively, Dick thought.
The cashier frowned.
"Why, I spoke only yesterday to Mr. Gibbs about a nephew of mine I
could recommend for that position; I don't understand how it comes he
has taken this thing out of my hands. He seldom interferes with the
hiring of help. I must see him about it at once," and he hurried away to
interview the president.
"Much good it will do him," remarked Payson to his fellow teller; "I've
seen the fellow he wants to put in here, and so has Mr. Gibbs; and I
must say I didn't like his looks. Goodwyn has to help support his
family, I understand, and it's more his wish to lighten his own load
than to get us a clever messenger, that impels him to recommend his
nephew.
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