e."

[Illustration: A mutual discovery--they both cared.]

As they entered the bank Mrs. Barnett, dressed in a very girlish
travelling suit, was standing by the check counter as though waiting.
At sight of Bob she nodded and smiled reservedly.

"Oh, Mr. Rogeen," she arched her brows and called to him as he started
to the cashier's window with Imogene Chandler.

Bob excused himself and approached her, a little uneasy and decidedly
annoyed. Her mouth was simpering, but her eyes had that sharp,
predatory look he had seen before.

"Mr. Rogeen," she began in a cool, ladylike voice, "my uncle told me of
the arrangement he had made with you and asked me to O. K. all the
loans before you make them."

"Is that so?" Bob felt a mingling of wrath and despair. "He did not
say anything to me about it."

"N-o?"--questioningly--"we talked it over last night, and he felt sure
this would be the better plan."

Bob hesitated for a moment. Imogene had gone to the other note
counter, and was trying idly not to be aware of the conversation. It
would be utterly too cruel to disappoint her now. It went against the
grain, but Rogeen swallowed his resentment and distaste.

"All right," he nodded brightly. "I've got one loan already for you."
He drew the papers from his pocket. "It is six cents on 150 bales of
cotton now in the yards. Here are the compress receipts."

"Whom is this for?" Her eyes looked at him challengingly; her lips
shaped the words accusingly.

"To Miss Chandler and her father." Bob felt himself idiotically
blushing.

Mrs. Barnett's face took on the frozen look of a thousand generations
of damning disapprobation.

"No! Not one cent to that woman. Uncle and I don't care to encourage
that sort."

For a moment Bob stood looking straight into the frigid face of Mrs.
Barnett. It was the first time in his life he would have willingly
sacrificed his personal pride for money. He would have done almost
anything to get that money for Imogene Chandler. But it was useless to
try to persuade the widow that she was wrong. Back of her own
narrowness was Reedy Jenkins. This was Reedy's move; he was using the
widow's vanity and personal greed for his own ends; and his ends were
the destruction of Rogeen and the capitulation of Miss Chandler.

Mrs. Barnett's eyes met his defiantly, but her mouth quivered a little
nervously. A doubt flashed through his mind. Was she authorized to do
this? Surely she would n