of one of the partners, which stood in a corner of the vast place, where
one could converse confidentially if one did not speak above a whisper;
but the stenographer girl could hear even whispering distinctly, and
perhaps she sometimes took down what she heard, if the partner made a
signal to her by carelessly rolling his pencil across his table.

The partner whom Overholt saw was not ill-natured, and besides, it was
near Christmas, and he had been poor himself when he was young. If
Overholt would kindly sign a note at sixty days for the overdraft it
would be all right. The banker was sorry he could not authorise him to
overdraw any further, but it was strictly against the rules, an
exception had been made because Mr. Overholt was such a well-known man,
and so forth. But the inventor explained that he had not meant to ask
any favour, and had come to explain how he had made such a strange
mistake. The banker, like the teller, thought that a man who could not
count money must be mad, but was too civil, or too good-natured, to say
so.

Overholt signed the note, thanked him warmly, and went away. He and his
old umbrella looked very dejected as he left the building and dived into
the stream of men in the street, but if he had paid any attention to his
fellow-beings he would have seen here and there a number who looked
quite as unhappy as he did. He had come all the way from the country
expressly to explain his error, and had been in the greatest haste to
get down town and have the interview over. To go home with the prospect
of trying to eat a dinner that would be cold, and of sitting in his
workshop all the afternoon just to stare at his failure until Newton
came home, was quite another matter. If the weather had been less
disagreeable he would have gone to the Central Park, to sit in a quiet
corner and think matters over.