“You mean Dr. Medrano de Pisco y Miel?”—That is the only Dr. Medrano in town, as the merchant well knows, but the matter must be clothed in all customary formality—“His house is the second door beyond that of Dr. Enrique Castro y Pelayo, señor.”
“Yes, but I am a stranger in town and I don’t know where Don Enrique lives.”
“You don’t know? You don’t know where Dr. Enrique Castro y Pelayo lives! Why—er—but everyone knows the house of Dr. Enrique. Why—er—just ask anywhere. They can tell you en to’as partes—anyone can tell you.”
This happy-go-lucky way of life is not without its advantages. Having occasion to cash a traveler’s check, I dropped in upon a native merchant who played at being a banker. After the usual extended formalities, he took the check and looked it over with a puzzled expression, for he knew no English.
“As a banker you are, of course, familiar with the system of traveler’s checks?” I put in.
“No, señor, I have never before seen one.”
“Well, it is just as good as money and....”
“Oh, of course,” he replied, hastily, “since the señor offers it. How much do you want for it?”
“Only its face value; ten dollars in American money.”
“I shall be pleased to take it. How much is that in our money of the country?”