With Mrs. Triplett back in bed again on account of the rheumatism which crippled her, and Belle going about white of face and sick of soul, home held little cheer for Georgina. But with Mrs. Triplett averse to company of any kind, and Belle anxious to be alone with her misery, there was nothing to hinder Georgina from seeking cheer elsewhere and she sought it early and late.
She had spent her birthday dollar in imagination many times before she took her check to the bank to have it cashed. With Richard to lend her courage, and Manuel, Joseph and Rosa trailing after by special invitation, she walked in and asked for Mr. Gates. That is the way Barby always did, and as far as Georgina knew he was the only one to apply to for money.
The paying teller hesitated a moment about summoning the president of the bank from his private office at the behest of so small a child, so small that even on tiptoe her eyes could barely peer into the window of his cage. But they were entreating eyes, so big and brown and sure of their appeal that he decided to do their bidding.
Just as he turned to knock at the door behind him it opened, and Mr. Gates came out with the man with whom he had been closeted in private conference. It was Richard’s Cousin James. The children did not see him, however, for he stopped at one of the high desks inside to look at some papers which one of the clerks spread out before him.
“Oh, it’s my little friend, Georgina,” said Mr. Gates, smiling in response to the beaming smile she gave him. “Well, what can I do for you, my dear?”
“Cash my check, please,” she said, pushing the slip of paper towards him with as grand an air as if it had been for a million dollars instead of one, “and all in nickels, please.”
He glanced at the name she had written painstakingly across the back.
“Well, Miss Huntingdon,” he exclaimed gravely, although there was a twinkle in his eyes, “if all lady customers were as businesslike in endorsing their checks and in knowing what they want, we bankers would be spared a lot of trouble.”
It was the first time that Georgina had ever been called Miss Huntingdon, and knowing he said it to tease her, it embarrassed her to the point of making her stammer, when he asked her most unexpectedly while picking out twenty shining new nickels to stuff into the little red purse:
“All of these going to buy tracts for the missionaries to take to the little heathen?”