"You seem so different from the others." "Me! Oh, I take care of the money your gamblers win," replied Peter, at which they both laughed, a spark of sympathy being kindled between them.
Then, seeing the puzzled expression on the boy's face, he added with a smile: "I'm Receiving Teller in a bank, one of the oldest in Wall Street." A look of relief passed over the young fellow's face.
"I'm very glad, sir," he said, with a smile.

"Do you know, sir, you look something like my own father--what I can remember of him--that is, he was--" The lad checked himself, fearing he might be discourteous.

"That is, he had lost his hair, sir, and he wore his cravats like you, too.

I have his portrait in my room." Peter leaned still closer to the speaker.

This time he laid his hand on his arm.