It seemed to her that people stared at her curiously, and her face grew redder than even the cold wind warranted.

Then she heard the porter inside shoot the bolts back and turn the key, and as the door swung open she darted past him so suddenly that he fell back with a startled exclamation.
In her confusion all she saw was the teller's window, with a shrewd-eyed man behind its bars, looking at her so keenly that she was covered with confusion, and forgot the name of the man she wanted to see.
[Illustration : "ALL SHE SAW WAS THE TELLER'S WINDOW, WITH A SHREWD-EYED MAN BEHIND ITS BARS"] "I--I--think it is Wheatley," she stammered.

"Any way he is awfully fat, and has two double chins, and married the president's daughter, and he takes up the collection at St.Boniface." The man's mouth twitched under his bristling moustache, but he only said politely, "You probably mean Mr.Oatley.

He's just come in." Then to Mary's horror, the man she had described rose from a desk somewhere behind the teller, and came forward pompously.

It seemed to Mary that she stood there a week, explaining and explaining as one runs in a nightmare without making any progress, about dropping the wrong coin in the St.Boniface collection; an old family heirloom, something she would not have parted with for a fortune; then about telephoning to the rectory and to Oatley Crest.