The young girl seemed scarcely to comprehend, yet her face remained pale and thoughtful.  It was not until the paying teller resumed with suggestive politeness that she roused herself:  “If you would like to see the president, he might oblige you until you hear from your friends.  Of course, my duty is simply to”—­

“I don’t think I require you to exceed it,” returned the young girl quietly, “or that I wish to see the president.”  Her delicate little face was quite set with resolution and a mature dignity, albeit it was still pale, as she drew away from the counter.

“If you would leave your address,” continued the official with persistent politeness, “we could advise you of any later deposit to your credit.”

“It is hardly necessary,” returned the young lady.  “I should learn it myself, and call again.  Thank you.  Good-morning.”  And settling her veil over her face, she quietly passed out.

The pain and indignation with which Randolph overheard this colloquy he could with the greatest difficulty conceal.  For one wild moment he had thought of calling her back while he made a personal appeal to Revelstoke; but the conviction borne in upon him by her resolute bearing that she would refuse it, and he would only lay himself open to another rebuff, held him to his seat.  Yet he could not entirely repress his youthful indignation.

“Where I come from,” he said in an audible voice to his neighbor, “a young lady like that would have been spared this public disappointment.  A dozen men would have made up that sum and let her go without knowing anything about her account being overdrawn.”  And he really believed it.

“Nice, comf’able way of doing banking business in Dutch Flat,” returned the cynic.  “And I suppose you’d have kept it up every month?  Rather a tall price to pay for looking at a pretty girl once a month!  But I suppose they’re scarcer up there than here.  All the same, it ain’t too late now.  Start up your subscription right here, sonny, and we’ll all ante up.”

But Randolph, who seldom followed his heroics to their ultimate prosaic conclusions, regretted he had spoken, although still unconvinced.  Happily for his temper, he did not hear the comment of the two tellers.

“Won’t see her again, old boy,” said one.

“I reckon not,” returned the other, “now that she’s been chucked by her fancy man—­until she gets another.  But cheer up; a girl like that won’t want friends long.”

It is not probable that either of these young gentlemen believed what they said, or would have been personally disrespectful or uncivil to any woman; they were fairly decent young fellows, but the rigors of business demanded this appearance of worldly wisdom between themselves.  Meantime, for a week after, Randolph indulged in wild fancies of taking his benefactor’s capital of seventy dollars, adding thirty to it from his own hard-earned savings, buying a draft with it from the bank for one hundred dollars, and in some mysterious way getting it to Miss Avondale as the delayed remittance.