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Bank
Meg had never been in a bank before, and she wasn’t quite sure what one was to do. When she walked in, she saw a teller behind a counter talking to another customer and a few other workers scurrying about. She decided the intelligent thing to do would be to get in line behind the other person and wait her turn.
It only took a moment for the other gentleman to finish his business before Meg found herself looking into the smiling face of an older fellow who wanted to know how he could help her. “Good day,” she began. “My name is Mary Margaret Westmoreland, and I am of the understanding that my father, Henry Westmoreland, may have opened an account for me before his death. It’s been several years ago….”
Before she could finish, the teller was nodding. “Oh, yes. Miss Westmoreland, it’s very nice to meet you. Please wait one moment while I go and retrieve the president, Mr. Rogers.”
Meg nodded, and the fell
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