Shenandoah herald. [volume] (Woodstock, Va.) 1865-1974, 1867-06-27

QutVoIlnS up anu lie GdfCu
She could SO no further, but, entirely
overcome, she bent her head, and the hot
tears had their way.
II beg pardon-have you had any
trouble with it? ?" asked the cashier
''Oh, sir, you will excuse me for giving
way to my feelings but you spoke SO
kindly, and I felt so sure it was good.
And I think, sir, such men as one of the
clerks in Huntley & Warmers should be
removed He told me it was counterfeit,
and added something I am glad my faith
er did not hear. | knew the publisher
would not send me bad money"
"Who is your father, young lady !? ask
ed the cashier, becoming interested.
"Mr BENJAMIN Locke, sir" Benia-
min Locke-Ben Locke--was he ever a
clerk in the Navy Department at Wash
ington p
eyes, sir; we removed from there"
replied Alice. ':Since then"-she hesitated
che has not been well-and we are
somewhat reduced. Oh, why do I tell
these things, sir ?"
.Ben, Locke reducedr' murmured the
cashier ''the man who was the making
of me! Give me his number and street,
my child. Your father was the best, per-
haps the only friend I had have not for
gotten him. No 4 Liberty street. I viii
call this evening Meantime let me have
the billet me see, I'll give you another
Since [ have come to look, I haven't got
fve-here's a ten; we'll make it all
right"
That evening the inmates of a shabby,
genteel house received the cashier of the
M-Bank. Mr.. Locke, man of gray
hair, though numbering but fifty years,
rose from his arm chair, and, much affect
ed, greeted the familiar face. The son of
the cashier accompanied him. and while
the elders talked together, Alice and the
young man grew quite chatty.
ayes, sir, have been unfortunate" said
Mr.. Locke, in low tone Il have just
recovered, as you see, from rheumatic fe-
yer, caused by undue exertion-and had
it not been for that sweet girl of mine. [
know not what [ should have DONE She,
by giving lessons in music and French
and writing for periodicals, has kept me, SO
far, above want.
"You shall not want, my old friend"
said the cashier. ''lt was kind Providence
that sent your daughter to me. There's a
place in the bank just made vacant by the
death of valuable clerk, and it is at your
disposal. It is my gift, and valued at
twelve hundred year
Pen cennot describe the joy with which
this kind offer was accepted. The day of
deliverancc had come.
i = x y < =
On the following inorhing the cashier
entered the handsome store OF I[auntley &
Warner. and inquired for the head clerk
He came obsequiously.
Sir" said the cashier, sternly, lis that
bad note p
Ell think not, sir" stammeringly re-
piled the clerk.
The cashier went to the door From
his carriage stepped young girl in COM
pany with his daughter.
:Did you not tell this young lady, my
ward, that this note was counterfeit p
And did you not SO far forget self-respect
and the interest. of your employers as to
offer an insult!
The man stood confounded- dared
not deny he could say nothing for him
self.
"If your employers keep you, sir, they
viii no longer have my CUSTOM" said the
cashier, sternly. 'You deserve to be
horsewhippcd."
The firm parted with their unworthy
clerk that very day, and lie left the store
disg7aced, but punished justly.
Alice Locke became the daughter-in-law
of the good cashier, All of which grew
out of calling genuine bill counterfeit.