"You're not very helpful; you don't tell me whether I'm to sit down under the burden of owning one hundred pounds of the bank's money that doesn't belong to me."
"Francesca," I said, "you must calm yourself and tell me as clearly as possible how you came into possession of this extra hundred pounds which is apparently burning a hole in your pocket—if indeed you have a pocket, which I doubt."
"You're quite wrong; I've got two pockets in the dress I'm wearing at this moment."
"I will not," I said, "discuss with you the number of your pockets. Now tell me your pathetic story. I am all ears."
"Well," said Francesca, "it's this way. I put one hundred pounds in the old War Loan, and then Exchequer Bonds came along, and I put one hundred pounds of my very best savings into them, and then came the new Five per Cent. War Loan, and somehow or other I got converted into that. And after that there was what they called a broken amount, which I brought up to fifty pounds or a multiple of fifty pounds. That cost me about forty pounds. I don't know why they wanted me to do it or why I did it."
"Probably they thought it would be easier for the Bank."
"That's paltry; easiness ought to have nothing to do with it."
"Anyhow," I said, "I make out from your statement that you ought to have two hundred and fifty pounds of Five per Cent. Stock to your credit."
"Precisely," said Francesca impressively, "but yesterday morning I received from the bank a dividend thing—"
"You may call it a warrant," I said.