w that her husband had not
answered her question as to whether he knew this notorious character.
She repeated it.

Mr. Pantin returned her searching look with one in which she could
discern no guile, but his words irritated her still further.

"I happened to be in the bank the other day when the girl was begging
Wentz for time on the loan which Mormon Joe had contracted for running
expenses," Mr. Pantin explained with somewhat elaborate carelessness.
"It wasn't due, but they were putting the screws on her to serve their
own purpose--or Neifkins' purpose, rather. He wants her leases. It was a
mistake of judgment, for she would have been a good borrower. Bankers
are born, not made, anyway," complacently, "and Vernon isn't one of
them."

"It seems to me his judgment in this instance is excellent," Mrs. Pantin
contradicted tartly. "It's quite evident the business men of Prouty
agree with him, since none of them will trust her."

"That doesn't alter my opinion." Mr. Pantin's reply was calm. "It's the
person behind a loan that counts, anyway--not the security. If I had
been in Wentz's place when she said she could handle those sheep and
meet the obligation when due, I should have believed her." Again Mr.
Pantin waved the chop for emphasis as he added with something very like
enthusiasm: "She has honesty, strength of character, intelligence,
personal magnetism--"

"It appears to me that you made rather a close study, considering your
limited opportunity," Mrs. Pantin interrupted acidly.

"She interested me."

"Evidently. But why this sudden change of opinion? I've heard you say a
hundred times that all women are pinheads in business."

"Because she's no ordinary woman," Mr. Pantin defended. "The girl hasn't
struck her gait yet; her mind is immature, her character undeveloped;
but if she doesn't make good--" he paused while he fumbled for a
convincing figure--"I'll eat my panama!"

Mrs. Pantin stared, both at the intemperate language and the rare
display of animation. From a state of indifference, she felt distinct
hostility toward Mormon Joe's Kate stirring in her bosom. Mr. Pantin
should have known better--he did know better--but he had felt reckless,
somehow. To make amends he said ingratiatingly:

"This mince pie is excellent, Prissy! Did you tell me there was no meat
in it?"

"Tomatoes," frigidly. "It's mock mincemeat." A triumph in economy--an
achievement! But Mr. Pantin's flattery and conciliating smile wer