The Eternal Feminine
AT THE LOST-AND-FOUND DESK
Yes, that’s my bag. I left it at the lace counter. Thank you. Please give it to me. What? I must prove property? Why, don’t you see it’s mine? That twisty silver monogram on the side is really E. C. S. That’s my name, Ella C. Saunders. I told Jim I thought the letters were too wiggly to be easily read, but I never thought anybody’d want to read it but me. Describe contents? Why, of course I can describe the contents! In one pocket is a sample of lace, just Platte Val, you know, not an expensive lace, and with it – I think it’s with it – is a sample of rose-colored crêpe de Chine – that is, not exactly rose-colored – sort of crushed plummish or burnt magenta – but no – come to think, I left those samples with my dressmaker. Well, anyway, there’s a Subway ticket – or let me see, did I use that coming down? I believe I did! Well, there’s a little memorandum card that slips in – the celluloid sort, you know. No, there’s nothing written on it. I don’t use it because, though they pretend you can wash them like a slate, you can’t. They just smudge. What do you mean by saying I haven’t told a definite thing yet? I’ve told you lots! Well, there’s some money – I don’t know how much; some chicken feed, as Jim calls it – and a five-dollar bill, I think – oh no – I paid that to the butcher. Well, there must be a one-dollar bill – two, maybe. Oh, and there’s a little pencil, a goldy-looking one; it came with the bag. And some powder-papers – those leaves, you know; but I believe I did use the last one yesterday at the matinée. Oh, dear, how fussy you are! I tell you it’s my bag; I recognize it myself. Can’t I tell you of some personal belongings in it so you’ll be sure? Why, yes, of course I can. My visiting-card, Mrs. James L. Saunders, is in that small inside pocket.
“Why didn’t I tell you that in the first place? Why, you rattled me so; and besides, I thought I had to tell of my own little individual properties, like samples and tickets and things. Anybody might have her visiting-card in her bag!”
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?”
“Oh, yes, indeed; I have drawn millions of checks.”
“Millions of checks! How exciting! What do you do with all your money?”
“Oh, it isn’t my money, you know.”
“Aren’t you ashamed to be drawing millions and billions of other people’s money! I have a friend who is engaged to a bank president who got caught drawing checks.”
“Excuse me, but how much money do you want to draw?”
“How much is it customary for ladies to draw?”
“Well, that depends upon how much they need.”
“Oh, I see. People in need draw more than those in comfortable circumstances, I suppose. I am not exactly what would be called ‘a needy person.’ Since I left school, of course, I have my own allowance. Do you approve of girls being put on an allowance, or do you think it is nicer for them to have accounts with the trades-people, and not be treated like children?”
“I should think that would depend. Would a check for $100.00 be enough for to-day? What did you have in mind to use it for?”
“I think you are very impertinent. I am surprised that people in banks are allowed to ask such questions. Why should you concern yourself with how much money I want?”
“I was endeavoring to help you about your check.”
“Oh, yes, certainly. How could you possibly draw checks if you didn’t know how much the checks were to be! I like checks much better than stripes or plaids. Lucille is making me a beautiful walking suit that is the loveliest imported check that you ever saw. And checks are nice for men, don’t you think?”
“Is it for the hat or for the suit that you want to draw a check?”
“Yes, of course, it is for the hat at Featherton’s that I want the check. I am afraid you will think I am silly, but really I have so many things to think about that it is hard to keep my mind on just one thing. You must make allowances for girls who have so many things to think about. Of course, with a man like you, who only has checks and money to think about all day long, it is so easy – I’d be bored if I had nothing but money and checks all day. I should think it would be diverting to have somebody call and talk about something else.”
“It is. Come, now, let us make out this check. You must write the number first.”
“Oh, isn’t it exciting! Now, wait, let me do it. You just watch out that it’s all right. But are you sure you know how yourself? I’d rather have an Expert to teach me. You know, nowadays, skilled labor counts in everything.”
“I assure you I’m competent in this matter, but I must beg you to make haste. Write the number in this blank.”
“What number?”
“Number one, of course. It’s your first check.”
“There! I knew you were ready to tell everything! Suppose it is my first check, I don’t want everybody to know it. Can’t I begin with a larger number, and then go right on?”
“Why, yes, I suppose you can, if you like. Begin with 100.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I guess I’ll begin with 4887. I can make lovely 7’s. Don’t you think 4887 is a pretty number?”
“Very pretty, but – ”
“Now you’re wasting time. There, I’ve written the number. What next?”
“The date, please. And the year.”
“Well, I’ve written the date, but it spilled all over the year space. It doesn’t matter, though, ’cause it’ll be this year for a long while yet, and this check will be vouched, or whatever you call it, before the year is out.”
“But you must write the year.”
“But how can I, when