McGinty nodded, and she ushered him over to a larger desk in the opposite corner.  It, too, was occupied by a woman—but a middle-aged one, wearing tortoise shell reading glasses of a kind McGinty thought appropriate for a banker.  On the wall behind her desk hung a photograph of a Little League baseball team.  On the desk itself lay an inscribed ceremonial gavel from the Chamber of Commerce.
 
“Mrs. Varkenee, this is Mr. McGinty.”

“Charlotte,” said the older woman, smiling as she rose to offer him a firm handshake.   “Call me Charlotte.”

McGinty began to feel more at ease.  He settled into a chair.

“Mr. McGinty has a...I mean, he's developed a...”  The young woman tired of her own faltering attempts.  “Would you like to just show it to her?”

McGinty reached into his bag and clunked the dispenser down on the desk.

The branch manager gazed balefully at her assistant.
 
The assistant lowered her eyes.  “The idea is that it makes people nice to one another,” she said in a quiet voice.

Charlotte Varkenee’s face fell into a full scowl.

McGinty pumped out a small cloud.

Startled, the manager drew in her breath.  After a moment, she appeared to have thought of something amusing.

“Well, we could certainly all use more of that,” she chuckled, relaxing her posture.

 “I guess it sounds a little hard to believe,” said McGinty.  “But one of the first things I’m going to do with the money is hire a crackerjack research outfit to prove it out.”

The manager's face went blank again.

“Also,” he continued, “you wouldn't actually be risking a penny.   It would all be secured by my house, which is paid for in full.”