Book account

Messengers took a peep at him as they circled from
window to window; patrons of the bank sauntered past and squinted
vaguely in his direction.
Vice-president Force came back a second time and actually pointed him
out to an utter stranger, at the same time waving his hand at Mr.
Bingle in a most friendly and engaging manner!
The poor bookkeeper reeled on his stool. He laid his pen down, removed
the green shade from over his eyes, placed his blotters neatly in the
rack, and turning to Jenkins, said:
"I can't stand it, Jenkins. I've--I've just got to know the worst. I'm
going to the office."
"With--without being sent for?" gasped Jenkins.
"There's no use putting it off. I--"
A dapper little page appeared at Mr. Bingle's elbow, interrupting him
with the curt remark that Mr. Force wanted to see him when it was
convenient.
"Convenient?" murmured Mr. Bingle, his eyes bulging.
"Well, great--" began Jenkins.
"That's what he said: convenient," said the page loftily. "Gee, where
did you get them ears?"
Mr. Bingle got down from his stool slowly, painfully.


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