Butler citizen. [volume] (Butler, Pa.) 1877-1922, 1894-10-18


stair and seated himself at his desk,
where the demon of despair soon re-
gained possession of him
One more hour before tfe counting
should begin. One more hour closeted
alone with his shame-his sin-then
exposure humiliation, loss of position,
ruin, prison for himself, poverty and
degradation for his beloved wife and
children.
Already the hum and stir of busineso
were audible in the Office adjoining
the strong room. Preparations were
being made to receive the directors as
became their dignity. The occasion,
like Christmas, presented itself but
once year.
John Carver, rousing himself from
bitter meditation, glanced at his
watch. Ten minutes to ten! Mr.. Stan
hope was always the first-he was too
prompt-he always bothered every
body by arriving on the scene of action
before the appointed hour. Stimuli
taneous with the turn of John Carver's
thoughts to the too-prompt director
was the click of the iron door that ad
mitted him to the sanctuary.
Mr.. Carver! good morning.
Good morning, Mr. Stanhope."
Never break my rule, do 1? Always
on time or rather before it. Good rule
that. Never missed train or boat
in my life. Missed stage-coach once.
My wife's fault that time Wedding
tour, you know. Irregularities excus-
able" and the loquacious Mr.. STAN
hope subsidized into the luxurious arm
chair which an assiduous office-boy had
rolled for his reception.
Another click of the iron door.
Enter Mr.. Hampden, of portly dimen-
sions and dignified mien. Intellectu-
ally he conveyed the impression of a
man who has received frightful blow
on the head from a club and is slowly
recovering from the effects of it. Mr..
Hampden waddled and grunted to-
wards his seat, vouchsaf1ng a brief
"Good morning" to those present.
Next came Mr.. Harrington, a dap
per, lively, good-natured little man Of
seventy, whose sparkling eyes beamed
hearty Endorsement to every pleas
ant word that left his clean-shaven
lips. Even poor John Carver felt a
certain alienation of his pain, though
faint as the effect of flood tide upon
the strong current of great river, as
old Peter Harrington clasped his hand
in vigorous pressure.
Two more arrivals. The committee
was now complete, and ready for
action.
To the aid of each director in his
l,,t / -, 1oI a1 rh4
sat opposite across the table. John
Carver stood at the entrance to the safe
and superintended the work of carry
ing out in regular order the packages
of stock and bonds which the huge
drawers and tin boxes were in turn
disgorging. Great armfuls of the
precious packages went down the mar
BILE stairway in the embrace of trusted
employees and were distributed upon
the massive tables between the direc-
tors and their assistants. AS the par
ticular bundle which the custodian
had known not wisely but too we'll
passed on it's way to the counting
tables, John Carver's heart throbbed
with such violence that voluntarily
his hand sought the support of the
DTdSS ruling. lie SWcdC DIOkC III
great drops from his forehead, but
there was none to note his excitement.
His eyes, riveted upon the object, fol-
lowed its descent and progress to the
table, where it was placed with sew
eral other packages before Mr.. Stan
hope.
The directors differed greatly in their
methods of counting. Some of them
performed the duty as carefully and
conscientiously as the most accurate
and loyal of employees. Others con-
tented themselves with merely watch
ing the clerks who sat opposite them
as they went through the labor for the
execution of which the directors
pocketed at the close of the ses
sion each bright ten-dolla r gold
piece. Mr.. Hampden was notably in
different to all that transpired. Mr..
Stanhope, on the contrary, seemed to
feel conscientious scruples rs to shift
ing the whole burden upon other
shoulders, and counted zealeusly.
Mr.. French, the clerk who had been
detailed to assist Mr.. Stanhope, was
a novice at the business. Bright, am
bitions, conscientious, and extremely
sensitive, this young man desired to
excel in everything he undertook and
felt keenly every shortcoming, real or
imaginary. His first experience in
security counting was painful to him
self and perhaps somewhat annoying
to others, for Mr.. Stanhope, although
himself no expert, invariably out
l.. lo 80
Each package of bonds was ticketed
with statement of number, kind
and denomination. In many cases Mr..
Stanhope divided the packages, retain
ing one part for his own counting and
handing the other to the clerk.
John Carver's eyes, still fastened
upon the package from which his fate
depended, saw it pass intact from the
directors hands to those of Mr..
French.
The latter rose from his chair, and
bending over the package, dipped his
fingers in the wet sponge beside him
and slowly began to count.
Though no sound escaped the clerks
lips, John Carver's overwrought nerves
kept him in fancy pace to pace with
the young man dIlIHIleJlCdl prog
ress through that bundle of crisp Sc
curitics.
zone hundredr said Mr.. Stanhope
quietly az he finished his package, and
glanced with n comical expression Of
expectancy at Mr.. French, who was
still struggling with his count.
The young man colored to the roots
of his hair and plunged madly for
ward.
lone hundred,' he cried, a moment
later He had counted only ninety
nine bonds, but firmly believing that
the contents of the package Tailed ex-
actly with the ticket, and ashamed to
delay the work by his self-acknowl-
edged slowness or stupidity, he caught
at a straw, unconscious that in SO do
ing he had saved drowning man.
At the sound of "One hundred
from Mr. French's lips the long-pent-
up emotions of John Carver burst furi-
ously through all distractions and
flung him staggering against the rail-
ing, which he gripped convulsively
with both hands in the tension of a
wise A dark mist surged before his
eyes-a noise as of thunder was in his
ears, and for an instant he believed
that death had come to relieve him of
all earthly pain. Then slowly the
mists rolled away, the noises dwindled
to the normal sounds of subdued con-
versation, the rustling OF papers, the