"Let me have a look at that cheque," I said.
She handed it to me and I examined it carefully.
"I see it's signed 'Thine, Suzanne.'"
"But that's how I always sign myself to Angela," she said; "and the Manager distinctly told me to use my customary signature."
"Signature—not signatures," I explained gently. "They're rooted in convention at the Bank and can't bear the least approach to variety. And what's this scribbled on the back of it?"
"Oh, that's only a note I dashed off to Angela telling her what I was going to wear. It seemed such a pity to waste a sheet of notepaper when there was all that space to spare."
I gave her a quarter-of-an-hour's lesson in the art of drawing cheques. Then I took up the paying-in book which was lying on the table. I knew it ought to be in a virgin state as I had added nothing to the entrance money. "And what might all these figures portend?" I asked.
"Those? Oh, that's baby's weight-chart. I'm always going to keep it there."
Well, well, if Suzanne looks after the weighing-in I can at least control the paying-in. And I left it at that.