In her own room Henrietta Bates was looking at her comely face reflected in her mirror. She was pleased with it, and she glanced down at the three framed photographs on her dresser. One was the picture of the imaginary William Vane, the others were of her dearest friends--Gay and Lorna. To William's portrait she gave only a careless glance. She lingered over Gay's and Lorna's. “Stupid dears!” she thought. “So you have found me out? It has taken you long enough, I'm sure. I wonder what next.” CHAPTER V As Lorna Percy, Lem, and Gay Loring sat on the porch a jaunty straw hat came into view above the terrace, and, as it reached the gate, proved to be on the head of a man as jaunty as the hat. The man paused at the gate to look up the street. “There's Freeman,” said Lorna. “He's home early.” “Not so very. It is getting toward supper-time.” Gay answered. “I'd better be getting home to help mother set the table.” “Poor excuse!” teased Lorna. “But run along if you want to have a nice little session at the gate all by your lonies. Gay--” “Yes?” “I _do_ think Freeman is in love with you.” Gay colored. “Why?” she asked. “The way he acts, and everything. Don't you think so yourself?” “Well--he's persistent enough. He's never said anything outright. Not anything much. I don't know whether he loves me or just wants to see how far he can go, Lorna.” Lorna was silent for a moment. “I'd say I was glad if he was n't such a--you know, Gay. Flashy. Don't you think he is rather flashy? Not very heavy. He's fast, too. I'd rather have you like Carter Bruce.” “For all I know he is a thousand miles from thinking anything serious,” Gay answered. “I'm simply not going to take him seriously until he is serious.” “How old do you suppose he really is?” “Twenty-five. Don't you think so?” “I doubt it, Gay. He may be. It is hard to judge. He's queer. I don't like him. He _is_ queer sometimes. He--” “Sh!” said Gay, indicating Lem, who was listening with all his ears. “I forgot. You're such a quiet little boy,” she said to Lem. “Are you a little pitcher with big ears?” “Yes'm,” said Lem. “I guess so.” “What I meant,” said Lorna to Gay, “was L-i-q-u-o-r. Have you suspected it?” “Ellicker,” said Lem. “What's that mean?” “Hush!” said Lorna. “He's coming in.” Freeman Todder, the young man of whom they were speaking, climbed the terrace steps slowly. He carried a cane, which was an unusual bit of dandyism in Riverbank, and he was what Miss Redding called “dressy.” Very few young fellows in Riverbank were “dressy” and almost none of the older men. Trousers seldom or never were creased on week days, for the “Sunday suit” held sway on the Sabbath and at parties and dances. To be well dressed on a week day was almost a sign of ungodliness, because the few who were well dressed were certainly apt to be ungodly. They were thought to be interested in poker, woman, and wine.