"Then, I was careful of my habits," Dudley went on. "I never touched a bit o' tobacco, nor tasted a drop o' liquor in my life." He paused, and then: "Do you use tobacco?" he asked. "Sometimes," Marley hesitated to confess. "Cigarettes?" "Now and then." "Humph! Learned that at college, I suppose." Marley made no reply. "Well, you've started wrong, young man. That wan't the way I made myself. I never touched a drop of liquor nor tasted tobacco. I worked hard and God prospered me--yes, God prospered me." Dudley's voice sank piously. "Now, I'll tell you." He seemed to be about to impart the secret of it all. "When I was your age, I embraced religion, and I promised God that if he'd prosper me I'd give a tenth of all I made to the church; a tenth, yes, sir, a full tenth." The banker paused again as if making a calculation, and a trouble gathered for an instant at his hairless brows, but, as if by an effort, he smoothed them so that they became meek and submissive. And then he went on, as if he had found a species of relief: "But it was the best bargain I ever made. It paid; yes, it paid; I kep' my word, and the Lord kep' His; He prospered me." He had folded his hands, and sat blinking at Marley. "So my advice to you, young man, is to give up tobacco and all your other bad habits, to be up early in the morning, to work hard, and remember God in all your ways, and He shall direct thy paths." Dudley stirred, and moved his swivel chair a little, as if it were time to resume work. But Marley sat there. "That's my advice to you, young man," Dudley repeated, "and it won't cost you a cent." He said this generously, at the same time implying a hint of dismissal. Still Marley did not move, and Dudley eyed him in some concern. Marley saw the look and forced a smile. "I thank you, Mr. Dudley," he said, "for your advice. I am sure it is good. I was wondering, though," he went on, with a reluctance that he knew impaired the effect of his words, "if you wouldn't have something here in your bank for me--" At this Dudley suddenly seemed to shrink in size. His eyes became small, mere inflamed slits beneath his hairless brows, and he said: "I thought you said you wanted advice?" "Well, I did," Marley explained, "but I thought maybe--" He did not finish the sentence. He rose and stood, still twirling his hat in his hand. "And you have nothing, you know of nothing?" Dudley slowly shook his head from side to side, once or twice, having resumed his economical habits. "Good morning," Marley said, and left. As he went out, the cashier and the assistant cashier looked at him through the green wire screen. Then they lifted their heads from their tasks cautiously and exchanged surreptitious glances. CHAPTER XVI LOVE AND A LIVING