"Hello! What's this? Looks like a hundred-bucker. Yours?" He held out
the bill.
Banneker shook his head. "Your uncle left it."
"It isn't a habit of his," replied the other.
"Give it to him for me, will you?"
"Certainly. Any message?"
"No."
The newcomer grinned. "I see," he said. "He'll be bored when he gets
this back. He isn't a bad old bird, but he don't savvy some things. So
you turned him down, did you?"
"Yes."
"Did he offer you a job and a chance to make your way in the world in
one of his banks, beginning at ten-per?"
"No."
"He will to-morrow."
"I doubt it."
The other gave a thought to the bill. "Perhaps you're right. He likes
'em meek and obedient. He'd make a woolly lamb out of you. Most fellows
would jump at the chance."
"I won't."
"My name's Herbert Cressey." He handed the agent a card. "Philadelphia
is my home, but my New York address is on there, too. Ever get East?"
"I've been to Chicago."
"Chicago?" The other stared. "What's that got to do with--Oh, I see.
You'll be coming to New York one of these days, though."
"Maybe."
"Sure as a gun. A chap that can handle a situation like you handled the
wreck isn't going to stick in a little sand-heap like this."
"It suits me here.
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