TOOTIE AT THE BANK
“Oh, how do you do? Are you the Paying Teller? Well,—that is,—could I please see somebody else? You see, I’ve just opened an account, and I want to get some of my money out. There’s the loveliest hat in Featherton’s window, marked down to—but, that’s just it! If I get my money from a Professional Teller, he’ll tell all about my private affairs, and how much I pay for my hats, and everything!”
“Not at all, Miss. We are called Tellers because we never tell anything about our depositors’ affairs. We’re not allowed to.”
“Oh, how lovely! Well, then,—if you won’t tell—I’ve never drawn a check before, and I don’t know how! Will you help me?”
“Certainly; but I must ask you to make haste. Have you a check-book?”
“How curt you are! I thought you’d like to help me. Men ‘most always do. Yes, I have a check-book,—that other clerk gave it to me. But I don’t like it, and I want to exchange it. See,—it has a horrid, plain black muslin cover! Don’t you have any bound in gray suède, with gilt edges. I’m willing to pay extra.”
“We have no other kind, Miss. How much money do you want?”
“Why, I don’t know. You see, Daddy put a thousand dollars in this bank for me. I suppose I may as well take it all at once. What do you think?”
“I think probably your father meant for you to take only a part of it at a time.”
“Yes; I think so, too. He said it would teach me business habits. He chose this bank because you have a special department for ladies. But if this is it, I don’t think much of it. To be sure the plate glass and mahogany are all right,—but it looks like ‘put up complete for $74.99.’ Don’t you think Mission furniture and Chintz would be cozier? Yes, yes, I’ll draw my check! Do give me a moment to draw my breath first. You see I’m not used to these things. Why, with a real bank account of my own, I feel like an Organized Charity! I suppose I ought to hunt up some Worthy Poor! Well, I’ll just get that hat first. Now, let me see. Oh, yes, of course you may help me, but I want to do the actual drawing myself. It’s the only way to learn. Why, when I took Art lessons, I made a burnt-wood sofa pillow all myself! The teacher just stood and looked at me. He said I had Fate-sealing eyes. Why, you’re looking at my eyes just the way he did! You seem so rattled,—why do you? Don’t you know how to draw a check, either?”