"National Trust Company (guess I've got enough _there_).
Pay to J.C. Mendenhall & Co.--how much was that?"
He took the check from the unresisting Mendenhall, spread it out on
the desk with a sprawling gesture, tore it to strips with the same
impetuous vehemence, and threw it in the waste-basket. After this
brief outburst of anger his good humor returned. "Twelve-fifty. Here
you are. No mistake this time. Say, old man, that's the drinks on
me--come along!"
"Thank you, I never drink," returned Mendenhall primly. He had not
relished the roughness with which the other had snatched the check
from him, though making allowance for the natural annoyance of one who
had been betrayed into a mortifying mistake.
"All the better, all the better. Seldom do myself, but sometimes--Have
a cigar? No? Well, I must toddle along!"
It may here be mentioned that during his moment of impulsive vexation
Mr. Britt had inconsiderately substituted for the "Commercial" check
another, precisely similar save for the important particular that it
lacked the Mendenhall indorsement. The original had slipped between
the leaves of Britt's check book, under cover of his large hands.
Those hands were most expert in various amusing and adroit feats of
legerdemain, though Mr. Britt's modesty led him to a becoming, if
unusual, reticence in this regard.
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