Sandy’s first half year of business convinced him that a large stock in trade may resemble a showy equipage in more points than one: it may look as respectable in its way, but then it may cost as much. Bills were now falling due almost every week, and after paying away the money saved during the earlier months, the everyday custom of the shop proved too little to meet the everyday demand. Fortunately, however, there were banks in the country--“_more banks than one_;” and his old master was content to lend him the use of his name, simply on the condition of being accommodated with Sandy’s name in turn. Bill, therefore, was met by bill, and the paper of one bank pitted against the paper of another; and as Sandy was known to have started in trade with a few hundreds, there was no demur for the first twelvemonth or so on the part of the bankers. They then, however, began to demand indorsations, and to hint that the farmer, his father, was a highly respectable man. Sandy expressed his astonishment that any such security should be deemed necessary; his old master expressed his astonishment too; nothing could be more unbusiness-like, he said; but the bankers, who were quite accustomed to the astonishment of all their more doubtful customers, were inflexible notwithstanding, and the old man’s name was procured. The indorsation was quite a matter of course, he was told--a thing “neither here nor there,” but necessary just for form’s sake; and from that day forward all the accommodation-bills of Sandy and his master bore the name of the simple-minded old man.