While she waited for an answer she took Mom to lunch, and afterwards wired another Kansas City firm. She sent the message to an old friend of her father, Edward Lisle by name. A prompt reply came whizzing back from Kansas City. At two o’clock, as she leaned over the telegraph counter, the following message was handed her: “Can not offer market price for Government supply feeders, but $50 a head on delivery, and $75 for fattened cattle of Lazy L grade.” “Edward Lisle.” What an offer! With a whoop of joy, Raquel rushed out across the street to the car where she had left Mom with her bundles. “Thought the bottom had dropped out of the cattle business, Mom, but it’s O.K. still! Just let me meet this note and the Government can have all we make above expenses afterwards. There’s something wrong somewhere, though. I don’t know what or why. But I figure ‘A. B.’s’ got something to do with it. Now if Jimmy can just get us some cars!” At two-thirty exactly, in the lobby of the dingy little hotel, Emporio Magnifico, she informed the commission agent that she could not close with him on his terms. “Well, Miss,” he replied angrily, “have your own way. But _I_ could get you your cars and you’d have a quick turnover. Which is better? Thirty-five thousand in hand when you want it, or delay? I tell you straight, my girl, you’ll find it a pretty hard job gettin’ any transportation at all for the next two months without some kind of pull. _I_ know.” “All right. That’s my problem,” Raquel came back, “but I’m not selling my father’s cattle for fifteen dollars less than I can get. I’ll tell you good day, sir.” And she left him standing there. But out on the street her elation faded as she recalled suddenly that now more than ever she must have cars. Would Jimmy be able to do anything for her? He had not mentioned her letter, nor Lois. Maybe he hadn’t received it. Well, he would do all he could for Dad’s sake, anyway. And dismissing her fears with a shake of the head, she crossed the street again and went into the bank. Every one in town knew Raquel Daniels, and she knew every one. But today she missed many a pleasant smile, and deprived several ready youths of the opportunity of lifting their sombreros. In the sanctum of the President, back of a little door marked “Private,” she shook hands with a rotund little man whose nervous manner was in strange contrast to her own quiet air. “It’s about the note, and the interest, Mr. Putney,” she said, thinking to herself, “My, he’s afraid of something else now--his new directors; probably ‘A. B.’” “Yes, yes. Not due for two weeks, my dear Miss Raquel.” Mr. Putney had never forgotten his Eastern manners. “No, sir. I was just going to say I’ll meet it on time. But I was just wondering if there were any slip-up in getting my cattle cars on time if I could get a few days’ extension?” Mr. Putney looked worried.