Hunkins

hem! I made a new and firmer vow to that self-satisfying effect every ten feet I walked. This congenial occupation of repairing my broken vanity was interrupted by the approach of Mr. Jacob T. Hull, President of the Third National Bank, who stopped me, saying: "Why, George, how do you do? I'm glad to see you. I heard about your being home. Congratulations on your promotion. Coming to the directors'meeting to-day? Better do it. All the board will be pleased." I shook hands with Mr. Hull, and was glad to see him in the same conventional language. I am a director in the Third National. That is one of the banks Dad uses. He bought me enough stock in it to qualify, ten or twenty shares, and had me put on the board. Dad said, at the time, that I ought to know something about banking if I am to follow him as a pumpmaker. I had no idea of going to that directors' meeting, but I had nothing else to do, and it was an easy way to pick up five dollars. So I said: "Certainly, Mr. Hull, I am on my way to the bank now." We walked along together, Mr. Hull asking me many questions about the war, whether the people of France really are starving, whether I didn't think the Belgians a most heroic people, is Germany really whipped or only shamming, what is my opinion of the League of Nations, is Wilson getting anywhere, and so on. I was all puffed up when I became a director of the Third National. It seemed very important to be partly responsible for the safe conduct of a big...