A Canadian Bankclerk Part 17

As he sat in the station waiting for his train to Toronto, Evan tried to recall one night in the year past when he had had nothing to do. He could not remember one. When he had not been working there had always been a village function of some sort to take up his time and consume his vitality.

His head ached now, for he had labored harder than ever during the past week, to clear the way for Christmas. There would be pleasure in seeing his folk, but none in the trip--although he was fond of travel.

He dreaded now the long train-ride. He yawned and felt miserable.

In the coach he was unable to sleep, and too tired to read. He had no disposition to talk; the only pastime left was to think. He wondered if Frankie still cared for him; if his parents would be impressed with his knowledge of banking, and if the bankboys of Hometon would acknowledge him a pal. Selfish as it may seem, his thoughts of Frankie were indefinite, and confused with memories of Julia and Lily.

The motion of the train gradually rocked him to sleep in his seat. He dreamt he was being moved to another branch. When he awoke the conductor was shouting "Toronto."

Evan changed cars at Union Station. This was the second time he had been through the city, but he had seen nothing of its life.

The train out Hometon way was crammed with excursionists. The weary bankclerk was obliged to stand for over fifty miles. He was more than half sick when he reached Hometon. The train was two hours late.

Mrs. Nelson and Lou were at the station to meet Our Banker. Both of them kissed him. His mother was so happy to see him the tears gleamed in her eyes. Lou sized him up in her old way.

"Say, you look like a city chap, Evan!"

He smiled half-heartedly.

"Gee, I feel rotten," he said; "my head is splitting and I'm sick at my stomach."

"You look thin, dear," said Mrs. Nelson, examining him in detail.

"Oh, I'll be all right after a snooze," he replied, lightly, seeing that his mother felt considerable anxiety.

The 'bus was full; the Nelsons walked from the depot to their home.

Evan answered the questions asked him on the way, endeavoring to appear cheerful, but took little interest in the old town. He drank a cup of his mother's tea, when they arrived home, then begged off to bed. Lou spread wet cloths on his forehead until he was asleep, and afterwards went downstairs to load his stocking.

"Mother, dear," she said, cracking a nut, "Evan looks fierce. I believe he is either worked or worried to death."

Mrs. Nelson sighed.

"This is a funny world," she observed petulantly; "it looks good from the outside, but when you come to find out it is a disappointment."

"Oh, mamma," laughed the daughter, "you sound melancholy. It isn't as bad as all that, you know. His headache will be gone in the morning.

Christmas trains would put anyone out of commission."

"He looked f.a.gged though, Louie."

"Most bankers do," observed Lou, casually.

Mrs. Nelson looked quizzically at the girl.

"Maybe I should never have encouraged him to enter a bank," she said, doubtfully.

The father came in, covered with snow.

"h.e.l.lo, Santa," cried Lou.

"Did he come?" asked Nelson, returning his daughter's smile, but looking somewhat anxiously about.

"Yes," said Mrs. Nelson, "but he was tired and went to bed. Don't wake him up till morning."

"He isn't sick, is he?" asked the father.

"No, just a headache," said Lou.

By and by she went off to bed, upon which Nelson proceeded to unwrap several parcels he carried, and fill her stocking.

"It doesn't seem long," he said pensively, "since these two stockings weren't big enough to hold anything worth while."

"No, indeed, George. I often wish they were both children again."

How many times a day is that impossible wish voiced by the mothers of every nation!

Christmas morning found Lou awake early. She repeated the pranks of childhood, stealing downstairs in the dark to find her stocking. Evan slept on. His sister peeked into his room at daylight, hoping to find him conscious; but he breathed so satisfactorily she overcame the temptation to frighten him awake. Mrs. Nelson would not allow anyone to disturb him until breakfast was set, then she went herself to his room.

In his dreams he heard his mother calling him, and it seemed to be away back in irresponsible days.

"Yes," he answered unconsciously, "I'm up, mother!"

Mrs. Nelson enjoyed his dozing prevarication. It made her forget that he was no longer a sleep-loving schoolboy. She went quietly to his bedside and laid a hand on his forehead. His eyes opened.

"How are you this morning?" she asked.

"All right mother, thanks. Is it late?"

She told him breakfast was ready, and he jumped out of bed, whistling with surprise.

"I guess I'd better go," she laughed, when he seemed to forget the presence of a lady.

"Oh, that's all right," he said, cheerily. He was feeling good after a night's sleep in the bed of his boyhood.

Mr. Nelson was waiting anxiously in the kitchen--they always breakfasted there in winter--for Evan and breakfast. The former soon arrived, and the latter was then ready.

"Bon jour," said the father, without nasal and with a hard "j."

"Good morning, George," laughed Evan, using a phrase then popular in the "funny" papers.

Our Banker led the way to table.

"I'm as hungry as a cougar," he said.

Lou regarded him in consternation. "Why, Evan," she cried, "haven't you forgotten something?"

He looked at her blankly. "What?"

"I got mine before daylight," holding up her stocking.