ss to argue when Kate used that tone, so Bowers had to
content himself with thinking that he would make her as comfortable as
circumstances would allow.

Kate stood in the doorway with her flour sack in her hand looking at
Prouty as the brakes relaxed and the wheels began to grind. It was not
exactly the way in which she had pictured her first trip into the world,
but, with a cynical smile, it was as near the realization as her dreams
ever were.

Kate had not ridden more than a hundred miles on a train in her life,
and her knowledge of cities was still gathered from books and magazines.
As she had become more self-centered and absorbed in her work, her
interest in the "outside" gradually had died. She told herself
indifferently that there was time enough to gratify her curiosity.

She sighed as she watched the town fade and then a snowflake,
featherlike and moist, swirled under the projecting roof and melted on
her cheek, to recall her to herself. She swung out over the step and
looked to the east where the clouds hung sagging with their weight. Yes,
it was well that she had come.

Behind the plate-glass window of the Security State Bank its president
stood with his hands thrust deep in his trousers' pockets watching the
long train as, with much belching of smoke, it climbed the slight grade.
There were moments when Mr. Wentz cursed the Fate that had promoted him
from his washing machine, and this was one of them.

Neifkins, hunched in a leather chair in the banker's office, had an
obstinate look on his sunburned face.

"I'd give about half I'm worth if that was your stock goin' out," said
Wentz, as he reseated himself at his desk.

Neifkins grunted.

"I heard you the first time you said that." The stubborn look on his
face increased. "When I'm ready to ship, I'll ship. I know what I'm
about--ME."

Wentz did not look impressed by the boast.

Neifkins added in a surly tone:

"I don't need no petticoat to show me how to handle sheep."

Wentz answered with a shrug:

"Looks to me like you might follow a worse lead. She's contracted for
all the hay in sight and shoved the price on what's left up to sixteen
dollars in the stack. What you goin' to do if you have to feed?"

"I won't have to feed; I'll take my chance on that. It's goin' to be an
open winter," confidently.

"It's startin' in like it," Wentz replied dryly, as he glanced through
the window where the falling snowflakes all but obscured the opposit