The Fighting Shepherdess

Kate watched the play of emotions over his face in deep satisfaction. There was no need of words to express his gratitude--which was mostly relief.

"I appreciate this, Miss Prentice, I do indeed. I am glad that you do not hold it against us because upon a time we were not able to accommodate you."

"A bank must abide by its rules, I presume," she replied noncommittally.

"Exactly! A bank must protect its customers at all hazards."

"And the directors."

Mr. Wentz colored. Did she mean anything in particular? He wondered. He continued to speculate after her departure. It was a random shot, he decided. If it had been otherwise she scarcely would be giving him her business now, especially to the extent of this deposit--which he was needing--well, nobody but Mr. Wentz knew exactly how much.

There was a quizzical smile upon Kate's face as she passed down the steps of the bank and turned up the street on another errand. She was walking with her eyes bent upon the sidewalk, thinking hard, when her way was blocked by Mrs. Abram Pantin extending a high supine hand with the charming cordiality which distinguished her best social manner. Mrs. Pantin slipped her manner on and off, as the occasion warranted, as she did her kitchen apron.

The suddenness of the meeting surprised Kate into a look of astonishment.

"This is Miss Prentice, isn't it?"

"That's the general impression," Kate answered.

Mrs. Pantin registered vivacity by winking rapidly and twittering in a pert birdlike fashion: "I've so much wanted to know you!"

The reply that there always had been ample opportunity seemed superfluous, so Kate said nothing.

"I've been reading about you, you know, and I want to tell you how proud we all are of you and of what you have accomplished. This is Woman's Day, isn't it?"

Since she seemed not to expect an answer, Kate made none and Mrs. Pantin continued: "I've been wanting to see you that I might ask you to come to me--say next Thursday?"

Mrs. Pantin's manner was tinged with patronage.

Kate's silence deceived her. She imagined that Kate was awed and tongue-tied in her presence. The woman was, as Prissy had assured Abram, "tickled to pieces."

In the meanwhile, interested observers of the meeting were saying to each other cynically: "Nothing succeeds like success, does it?"

This time, apparently, Mrs. Pantin expected an answer, so Kate asked bluntly: "What for?"

"Luncheon. At one--we are very old-fashioned. I want you to meet some of our best ladies--Mrs. Sudds--Mrs. Neifkins--Mrs. Toomey--and others."

As she enumerated the guests on her fingers the tip of Mrs. Pantin's pink tongue darted in and out with the rapierlike movement of an ant-eater.