"Yes, this is No. ----," said one of the workmen to whom I addressed a rather startled inquiry. "We're making it over into offices." I was convinced that I had made a mistake in the address and was just on the point of turning away when I saw Carrie Morse coming down the steps.
"Good morning," she called cheerily. "This is the new bank--or, rather, it will be when these workmen get it finished. And you, my dear, are no longer Sophie Lyons, but Mrs. Celia Rigsby, the president of this rich and prosperous institution for the amelioration of the finances of the women of New York."
"But," I said, beginning now for the first time to feel some doubts about the undertaking in which I had so suddenly embarked, "where is all the money coming from to start this bank?"
"Money?" said Carrie, lowering her voice to a hoarse whisper. "Don't speak of that so loud--the workmen might hear you. I've leased this house and I'm having all these alterations made on credit. I haven't a cent to my name--that's why I'm starting this bank. I need money and this is the easiest way I know to make it."
Carrie's easy confidence allayed most of my fears and I forgot the rest when, from some mysterious source, she produced money enough to support me in comparative luxury during the ten days we had to wait for the bank to be completed. She insisted that there was absolutely nothing for me to do in the meantime and that she didn't want to see me in Twenty-third street until the bank was ready for business.
I was hardly prepared for the surprises which I found when I visited the bank on the appointed day. Over the entrance hung a huge brass sign reading, "New York Women's Banking and Investment Company." The entire front of the building had been remodeled into a commodious and up-to-date counting room. This was lighted by two large plate glass windows and the entrance was through a massive door whose glass was protected by heavy bars. These bars looked for all the world like iron, but Carrie assured me that they were only wood covered with tin and painted black.
Inside were all the appurtenances of a first-class banking establishment--brass railings, desks, counters, chairs, and, in the most conspicuous position, an enormous "burglar proof" safe. In the rear were partitioned off two little private offices, their doors labeled "Mrs. Celia Rigsby, President," and "Mrs. Carrie Morse, General Manager."