The pleasant look that had come back to Johnnie's face at the mention of repayment fled again. In money matters he was notoriously close; his carefulness in the matter of pennies was a joke that he accepted good-naturedly, since it permitted him the more easily to protect himself. No one could borrow money from Johnnie Albersori, and no one asked him to lend, although “Lend me a couple of cart-wheels” was the phrase most often spoken by the young fellows who made the Alberson store a loafing place. “That won't do,” he said. “How do I know? Maybe you'll pay and maybe you'll get tired of paying. And before fall he may be in China. No, I'm going to have the money or put him through.” “I thought perhaps you would say that,” said Henrietta. “You would naturally. You think I am merely one of Freeman's friends. I am his mother, Mr. Alberson. I'm Freeman's mother.” And thus another lie was uttered by Henrietta Bates. CHAPTER IX Johnnie Alberson looked at Henrietta without the least questioning of her statement that she was Freeman Todder's mother. “That's different, Mrs--” he hesitated; “Mrs. Todder,” he said finally. “Or is it Mrs. Bates?” “No, not Todder,” said Henrietta. “Nor Bates either. I am Mrs. William Vane. My husband is in the West. He is a worthless, drunken wreck. You can understand why I took the name of Bates, with a son like Freeman, always an expense, and a husband like Mr. Vane, and the position of teacher here open only to spinsters. It was necessity, not choice.” There was no weak appeal in Henrietta's voice, nor in her manner, nor were there tears or tremulousness. She looked directly into Alberson's eyes and spoke with what seemed to be absolute frankness. “That's different,” Alberson repeated. “I can see why you want to save Freeman, that being so. And I'm sorry for you; I 'll say that, Mrs. Vane. A son like yours--well, he's not much good. Now, about this payment you want to make?” Henrietta told him what she would like to do. She would, of course, bring him the money as often as she could. “I may be able to get a little out of Freeman's father,” she prevaricated. “When he has work and is not spending all for drink, he sends me a little now and then. I 'll write to him. He may try to do something now--when my need is so great.” When she arose she gave Alberson her hand, and held his a moment, warmly pressing it, in thanks. “I am so grateful,” she said. “It is such a load off my mind. You cannot know how I have worried. I know you'll say nothing about what I have told you.” “I'm a wise old owl,” said Johnnie, and only then dropped her hand. “I know secrets and still more secrets.” When Henrietta went out to the front of the store Alberson took a small, round mirror from his pocket and viewed his face in it. He was always a little vain. “One damn fine woman,” he said, aloud, “and she must have married mighty young. Fine, that's what she is!” Henrietta stopped to speak to Freeman.