Four Old Women

From 9 a.m. to 4:30 p.m., at rows of battered desks in a big, grey-walled room in the Treasury Building in Washington, 40 old women in aprons and house dresses sit counting the worn, dirty, ill-smelling U. S. currency sent in by banks to be changed for new bills. The room's windows have iron gratings and Treasury guards stand by, but last week it was discovered that four grey-haired drudges had found a way to eke out their $30-per-week pay. They had been robbing the Treasury for years. When a package of currency contained fewer bills than the number marked on the attached teller's slip, the four old checkers invariably noted the lack. But when a packet contained an extra bill or two they pocketed the difference, marked the stack O.K. So rare and trifling were the tellers' mistakes from which they profited that it was a long time before their superiors grew suspicious. Then the Secret Service planted packages of marked bills, caught the four redhanded. They were promptly discharged in teary disgrace but. because of their long service and the pettiness of their thieving, the Treasury refused to prosecute them or even reveal their names.

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