“I had a talk with Dawson yesterday,” he continued when they were alone. “Dawson, you know, practically owns one or two country banks, besides his large interest in the Atlantic National, and it takes a lot of men to run his business. Dawson told me that none of the youngsters at the Atlantic was worth much. He wants a man who’s capable of handling some of that country business. Now, I remember you said last fall that you didn’t care to go into anything like that; but I had an idea that you might think differently now, so I spoke of you to Dawson and he wants you. It looks to me like rather a good opening.” John did not speak for half a minute. Then he said:-- “I’ll take it. Thank you.” “I’m glad you decided that way,” said Sponley. “Dawson and I lunch together to-morrow at one. You’d better join us, and then you and he can talk over details. Come, Alice and Harriet are waiting for us. We’ll have some music.” When at last it occurred to John that it was time to go home, they urged him so heartily to stay a little longer that without another thought he forgave himself for having forgotten to go earlier. Just before noon next day, John left his desk and walked into his father’s office. Old Mr. Bagsbury looked up to see who his visitor was, then turned back to his writing. After a minute, however, he laid down his pen and waited for his son to speak. And to his great surprise John found that a difficult thing to do. When he did begin, another word was on his lips than the one he had expected to use. “Father--” he said. The old man’s brows contracted, and John knew he had made a mistake. In his desire that John should be on the same terms as the other clerks, the father had barred that form of address in banking hours. “Mr. Bagsbury,” John began again, and now the words came easily, “I was offered another position last night. It’s a better one than I hold here, and I think it will be to my advantage to take it.” Mr. Bagsbury’s hard, thin old face expressed nothing, even of surprise. He sat quite still for a moment, then he clasped his hands tightly under the desk, for they were quivering. “You wish to take this position at once?” “I haven’t arranged that. I waited till I could speak to you about it. I don’t want to inconvenience you.” “You can go at once if you choose. We can arrange for your work.” “Very well, sir.” As his father bowed assent, John turned to leave the office. But at the door he stopped and looked back. Mr. Bagsbury had not moved, save that his head, so stiffly erect during the interview, was bowed over the desk. From where he stood John could not see his face. Acting on an impulse he did not understand, John retraced his steps and stood at the old man’s side. “Father,” he said, “I may have been inconsiderate of your feelings in this matter. If there’s anything personal about it, that is, if it’s worth any more to you to have me here than just my--my commercial value; I’ll be glad to stay.”