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The day book. (Chicago, Ill.) 1911-1917, November 12, 1912, Image 18

Image and text provided by University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign Library, Urbana, IL

Persistent link: http://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn83045487/1912-11-12/ed-1/seq-18/

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s WITHOUT SENTIMENT
? By Alyah Jordan Garth.
( Copyright by W. G. Chapman.)
Jarnigah sat at his desk in the
.hank supremely satisfied with
himself, with the institution of
rtvhich he was an efficient and
valued official, and with the re
sults of a good day's work,
a There was no sentiment about
.1 "vno
.1
You Are Sure of That?"
Jarnigan, at least, so he told him-
rself. System was his hobby. Face,
manner and methods were all
made subservient to a dignified
-unvarying rule. To Jdrnigan men
-fitted into the bank measure, or
didn't. In one case they were
3taken into fostering financial
jprms protectingly. Per contra,
afhe useless, the delinquent and
the utterly bad were cast as rub"-
bish to the void.
No scheming promoter or "Not
sufficient funds" man had ever
"put it over" on Jarnigan. He
had the record of the bank for
sizing up a borrower just right,
and shutting him off dead short
at the first hint of shrinking de
posits or insipid collateral. Two
or three cases in this category had
passed the shrewd cynosure of
the efficient cashier that day. Jar
nigan had been congratulated for
discovering a defect in a bond is
sue the institution had come very
near handling. He felt pretty
good, and rubbed his hands to
gether with a pleased sense of be
ing a strict follower of banking
ethics, with no sentiment stand
ing "between his good judgment
fand the best interests of the bank.
A bank book was passed across
the counter slab and directly un
der his eyes. Usually chary of
glances or greetings that took
time, and therefore cost money,
as was his wont, Jarnigan was
about to give the case tne atten
tion it might require, when he no
ticed that a shapely gloved hand
had pushed the book over to him.
The bank man looked up sharp
ly to stare steadily. He was look
ing into the fairest face he had
even seen. It was that of a young
girl, very neatly but plainly
dressed. A wistful mournfulness
in her eyes seemed to appeal-for
sympathy and kindly attention.
"What is it, miss?" spoke Jar
nigan, a trifle less peremptorily
than was his custom. "Ah, I see,"
he added .as he opened the book

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