The Fighting Shepherdess

Was the feeling due to a guilty conscience, she asked herself, or was an implacable hatred that was biding its time, concealed by Kate's enigmatic face?

Mrs. Toomey concluded that this theory was farfetched--that it was not human nature to retain resentment for even a real wrong through such a lapse of years. Time took the keen edge off of everything, including the bitterest enemy. And yet, in spite of this comforting reassurance, there remained an inexplicable feeling of disquietude when she thought of the woman to whom she had proved an ingrate and a cowardly friend.

While Mrs. Toomey's mind was thus engrossingly occupied, Jasper was having his own troubles in the Security State Bank.

Stimulated by three cups of strong coffee, Toomey had left the house full of hustle and hope--a state which was apt to continue until about eleven o'clock when the effect wore off, and then he might be expected home with another iridescent bubble punctured, and himself gloomy to the point of suicide.

To-day Toomey's feet as a means of locomotion seemed all too slow as he covered the distance intervening between his home and the bank. His black eyes were brilliant with caffeine and the excitement attendant upon a large and highly satisfactory idea which had come to him in the night.

Having obtained a hearing, he rolled a cigarette with tremulous fingers while he unfolded his plan to Mr. Wentz. The banker listened with equanimity as he sat on the back of his neck with his fingers interlaced across his smart bottle-green waistcoat. Wentz's lack of enthusiasm only increased Toomey's eagerness. He leaned forward and declared with all vehemence: "Look at the territory I could cover, if I had an automobile! With a sideline of fruit trees, I can get an order of some kind out of every family in the northern part of the state. It's a cinch, Wentz. I'm giving you a chance to make a good loan that you can't afford to let pass."

Mr. Wentz yawned with marked weariness.

"What's a bank for if not to encourage legitimate enterprises in the community upon which it depends for its business? There isn't a flaw in this proposition, Wentz! Can you show me one?"

"It's perfect from your side," Wentz agreed, "but where would we get off if every family in the northern part of the state didn't happen to need fruit trees or a sewing machine? We'd have a worn automobile on our hands and another of your familiar signatures on our already too large collection of promissory notes. Can't see it, Jap."

Disappointment as well as Wentz's words stung Toomey more deeply than he had been touched for a long time. A rush of blood dyed his sallow face as he grabbed his hat and started for the door. Opening it partly, he turned and flung a retort over his shoulder.