"An original character, apparently," he said.
"He doesn't aim to let grass grow under _his_ feet." Between two and three Britt bustled into Mendenhall's, making for the office.
"Oh, I say!" he puffed, as Mendenhall rose.

"Banked that check yet ?" "Not yet," replied the other sedately.

"It is our custom to send the day's checks for deposit just before three.

Nothing wrong, I trust ?" Britt dropped into a chair, mopping his face.

"Oh, no, nothing _wrong_; but I'm afraid I've made a little mistake.