Sanford High School would admit him to Tate University without entrance examinations!
But he seemed very far from Tate when he walked into the drab First National that Monday morning and was assigned to a high stool near Henry Lamb.
Three weeks after Harold took up his unwilling and temporary labors at the bank, the president, a fat, fussy little man, waddled out of his private office one morning accompanied by a tall, dark, sulky-looking youth. The pair paused at Harold's stool and President Coburn frettily introduced the younger man as "my son, Walter Coburn, Jr." Knowing Walter, Jr., to be also a son of Union State, as well as of several other colleges from which he had been duly expelled, Harold favored him with the Chester Trask swooping handshake. It did not, however, get over very well. Walter, Jr., stared at him with his small, sleepy eyes as if Harold and his handshake were freaks. The shake of the president's son was very feeble, and he withdrew his white digits quickly as if afraid they would be maltreated. He muttered something that sounded like "pleeztameetcha," which he obviously wasn't.
Then the two Coburns passed on to the perch of Henry Lamb, where the bank of-
