lip. "I wrote it, though."

The policeman looked up at the teller with a wink. "He can tell a good
yarn," chuckled the policeman. "Shouldn't wonder if he could write one."

The teller laughed and Jimmy's eyes burned again. "It's mine," he
insisted.

"If it's yours," said the policeman quietly, "we can settle it fast
enough. Do your folks have an account here?"

"No sir."

"Hmmm. That makes it tough."

Brightly, Jimmy asked, "Can I open an account here?"

"Why, sure you can," said the policeman. "All you have to do is to bring
your parents in."

"But I want the money," wailed Jimmy.

"Jimmy James," explained the policeman with a slight frown to the teller,
"we can't cash a check without positive identification. Do you know what
positive identification means?"

"Yes sir. It means that you've got to be sure that this is me."

"Right! Now, those are the rules. Now, of course, you don't look like
the sort of young man who would tell a lie. I'll even bet your real
name is Jimmy James, Jr. But you see, we have no proof, and our boss
will be awful mad at us if we break the rules and cash this check without
following the rules. The rules, Jimmy James, aren't to delay nice, honest
people, but to stop people from making mistakes. Mistakes such as taking
a little letter out of their father's mailbox. If we cashed that check,
then it couldn't be put back in father's mailbox without anybody knowing
about it. And that would be real bad."

"But it's mine!"

"Sonny, if that's yours, all you have to do is to have your folks come in
and say so. Then we'll open an account for you."

"Yes sir," said Jimmy in a voice that was thick with tears of frustration
close to the surface. He turned away and left.

Jake was still in the outside office of the Yard when Jimmy returned. The
boy was crestfallen, frustrated, unhappy, and would not have returned at
all if there had been another place where he was welcome. He expected
ridicule from Jake, but Jake smiled.

"No luck, kid?"

Jimmy just shook his head.

"Checks are tough, Jimmy. Give up, now?"

"No!"

"No? What then?"

"I can write a letter and sign it," said Jimmy, explaining how he had
outfoxed the ticket seller.

"Won't work with checks, Jimmy. For me now, if I was to be polite and
dressed right they might cash a twenty if I showed up with my social
security card, driver's license, identification card with photograph
sealed in, and all that junk. But a kid hasn't