“Up already!” he cried, springing briskly into the road. “Conny has lost a pair of gloves. She bet me that I should find you in bed.” “She deserves to lose,” said I, laughing, “for having such a bad opinion of me.” “How did you sleep? Did you like your rooms? Is Mrs. Reeves obliging? Is your bed comfortable?” were some among the many questions my uncle asked me in his cheery, cordial manner; and hearing that I was perfectly satisfied and happy, he asked me what I meant to do? I told him that I was about to take a walk and see the town. “Come, first, and let me show you the bank. We open at half-past nine.” I put my pipe in my pocket, and scrambled up into the back seat, and away we clattered down the High Street, through the ancient gateway, and round the corner, stopping before a new building over which the word “Bank” was engraved. My uncle led the way in. The office was clean and new, and made fearfully business-like by a counter and high stools and advertisement-charts of insurance offices. A young man stepped from behind a ground-glass front, and my uncle introduced him to me as Mr. Curling. I bowed loftily, and fixed a scrutinising eye upon the young gentleman. He was more cordial, and offered me his hand. “Glad to know you, Mr. Hargrave,” said he. “I am much obliged to you,” I replied. “Yonder is Mr. Spratling,” said my uncle, smiling at the youth who had turned his head on hearing his name pronounced. I nodded, and Mr. Spratling stared. My uncle then went round the counter, calling to me to follow, and going up to a desk behind the ground-glass front, said, “This will be your place, Charlie,” and watched my face; but I said nothing, though I _could_ have commented in very forcible terms upon the immense inconvenience it would be to me--a lounger born--of having to sit on a high stool all day and write down dry bucolic names and rows of figures in a huge book called a ledger. My uncle then conducted me into his private office at the back, and leaning against the table, asked me, with a rather humorous twinkle in his eye, “How my look-out struck me?” “I’ll tell you what,” I answered, seating myself, for it was always my opinion that you can’t make a greater mistake than to stand when you can sit; “I’ll tell you what, uncle; you are such a thoroughly good fellow, with so nice a sense of what is due to a gentleman, that I believe, after a little, I shall be able to endure this life. But in any other office than yours, with any other man but you over me, I could no more submit to have a counter placed between me and society, than I could submit to cleaning boots.” He laughed heartily, and clapping me on the shoulder, exclaimed,