exception, the most repulsive small boy he had ever met in this world,
where repulsive small boys crowd and jostle one another, did not
interfere with his appreciation of the cashier's state of mind. Mike's
was essentially a sympathetic character. He had the gift of intuitive
understanding, where people of whom he was fond were concerned. It was
this which drew to him those who had intelligence enough to see beyond
his sometimes rather forbidding manner, and to realize that his blunt
speech was largely due to shyness. In spite of his prejudice against
Edward, he could put himself into Mr Waller's place, and see the thing
from his point of view.

Psmith's injunction to him not to talk much was unnecessary. Mike, as
always, was rendered utterly dumb by the sight of suffering. He sat at
his desk, occupying himself as best he could with the driblets of work
which came to him.

Mr Waller's silence and absentness continued unchanged. The habit of
years had made his work mechanical. Probably few of the customers who
came to cash cheques suspected that there was anything the matter with
the man who paid them their money. After all, most people look on the
cashier of a bank as a sort of human slot-machine. You put in your
cheque, and out comes money. It is no affair of yours whether life is
treating the machine well or ill that day.

The hours dragged slowly by till five o'clock struck, and the cashier,
putting on his coat and hat, passed silently out through the swing
doors. He walked listlessly. He was evidently tired out.

Mike shut his ledger with a vicious bang, and went across to find
Psmith. He was glad the day was over.