for me. I won't be as long as your friend last night." Then he added to
a negro porter, "Show him round there."

He moved away, stopping at one or two desks to give an order to the
clerks, and once before the railing to speak to a depositor. Randolph
followed the negro into the hall, through a "board room," and into a
handsomely furnished office. He had not to wait long. In a few moments
the president appeared with an older man whose gray side whiskers, cut
with a certain precision, and whose black and white checked neckerchief,
tied in a formal bow, proclaimed the English respectability of the
period. At the president's dictation he took down Randolph's name,
nativity, length of residence, and occupation in California. This
concluded, the president, glancing at his companion, said briefly,--

"Well?"

"He had better come to-morrow morning at nine," was the answer.

"And ask for Mr. Dingwall, the deputy manager," added the president,
with a gesture that was at once an introduction and a dismissal to both.

Randolph had heard before of this startling brevity of San Francisco
business detail, yet he lingered until the door closed on Mr. Dingwall.
His heart was honestly full.

"You have been very kind, sir," he stammered.

"I haven't run half the risks of that chap last night," said the
president grimly, the least tremor of a smile on his set mouth.