Part 11 (1/2)

”Too bad!” Mrs. Harnden cooed her sympathy, affectedly.

”And I've been through h.e.l.l's torments in the last few hours,” declared Britt; ire succeeded his dolor.

”You must try and forget how those ingrates have abused you, Mr. Britt.

This is a beautiful story I have just finished. You must take it with you and read it. The love sentiment is simply elegant. And it speaks of the sheltering walls of the home making a haven for the wounded heart. I hope you have found this home a haven to-night.” She rose and crossed to him and laid the novel in his hands.

Mr. Harnden shoved his own hands into his trousers pockets, throwing back his coat from his comfortable frontal convexity. He presented a sort of full-rigged effect--giving the appearance of one of those handy-Jack ”Emergency Eddies” who make personal equipment a fad: the upper pockets of his waistcoat bristled with pencils and showed the end of a folded rule and some calipers. He had all sorts of chains disappearing into various pockets--chains for keys and knife and cigar cutter and patent light. ”Tasper,” he advised, briskly, ”seeing that you're now in a happy haven, as the wife says, why waste time and temper on this town? The only reason why I have kept my home here is because the town is solid rock and makes a good jumping-off place for me; I can get a firm toe hold. Why do you bother with a d.i.n.ky office like the one you started out for? With your money and general eminence you can be the Governor of our state. Sure! I know all the men in this state. I've made it my business to know 'em. Let me be your manager and I'll make you Governor like”--Mr. Harnden yanked out one hand and tripped the doors of the model with a loud snap--”like that! Open goes the door to honors--bang goes the door against enemies!”

Mr. Britt glanced at the t.i.tle of the story in his hands--_The Flowers Along Life's Pathway_--and perked up a bit as if he saw an opportunity to pluck some of those flowers. But when Mr. Harnden went on to say that politics was not as expensive--with the right manager--as some folks supposed, Mr. Britt exhibited gloomy doubt. ”A home is about all I have in mind right now,” he declared. ”A man has got to have a happy home before his mind is free for big plans.”

”My experience exactly!” stated Mr. Harnden, graciously indicating with a wave of the hand the happy home which he rarely graced. ”And knowing what I do about the help a good home gives an enterprising man, you've got my full co-operation in your efforts, Tasper.”

They heard the hall door open.

”It's Vona,” announced Mrs. Harnden. She beamed on Britt. ”I wonder why the dear girl is coming home so early.”

The caller's face lighted up with the effect of an arc lamp going into action.

But when the sitting-room door opened and Vona escorted Vaniman in ahead of her, Britt's illuminated expression instantly became the red glare of rage instead of the white light of hope. He leaped to his feet.

The situation made for embarra.s.sment of overwhelming intensity; there was no detail of the affair in front of Usial's cot that had not been canva.s.sed by every mouth in Egypt, including the mouths of the Harnden home.

Vaniman made the first move. He bowed to Mrs. Harnden; he knew the mother; she had called on Vona in the bank. ”May I meet your father?” he asked the girl.

Vona presented him, recovering her composure by the aid of Frank's steadiness.

”How-de-do!” said Mr. Harnden, stiffly. He did not ask the caller to be seated. Vona gave the invitation. While Vaniman hesitated, the master of the household had a word to say, putting on his best business air.

”Ordinarily, young man, the latchstring of my home is out and the boys and the girls are welcome here to make merry in a sociable way.” Mr.

Harnden was distinctly patronizing, with an air that put Frank into the intruding-urchin cla.s.s. ”But it so happens that this evening Banker Britt has seized the opportunity of my being in town and he and I are in close conference regarding an important matter in the investment line.

You'll excuse us, I'm sure.”

It was certainly no moment to go tilting in the field of Love, and Frank, though undaunted, was deferential; and he was compelled to recognize the father's rights as master of the household. He bowed and turned to leave, carefully keeping his eyes off Britt.

But Vona had her word to say then; her foot was on the hearth of home; she had that advantage over Frank. Moreover, she was moved by the instinct of self-protection; she did not relish the notion of being left alone with that trio.

”We can kindle a fire in the front room, father!”

”There hasn't been a fire in that room all winter, dear girl.” Mrs.

Harnden's protest was sweetly firm. ”No one shall run the chance of catching a cold.”

”Exactly! It's tricky weather, and we must be careful of our guests,”

agreed Mr. Harnden. ”Call again, young sir!”

”I will,” stated Vaniman. He turned and addressed Vona. ”The little matter will take no harm if it's postponed till to-morrow,” he told her.

His gaze was tender--and the girl looked up at him with an expression which even a careless observer would have found telltale. Britt's vision was sharpened by such jealous venom that he would have misconstrued even innocent familiarity. He had been struggling with his pa.s.sion ever since Vaniman had appeared, escorting the girl in from the night where the two had been alone together. Age's ugly resentment at being supplanted by youth was sufficiently provocative in this case where Britt ardently longed, and had promised himself what he desired; but to that provocation was added the stinging memory of the blow dealt that day by Youth's hand across Age's withered mouth; he licked the swollen lips with a rabid tongue. He beheld the two young folks exchanging looks that gave to their simple words an import which roused all his fury. Britt shook himself free from all restraint. He had been a.s.sured by the Harndens that their home was his haven; he took advantage of that a.s.surance and of the young man's more dubious standing in the household.

Britt was holding to the paper-covered novel--it was doubled in his ireful grip and its t.i.tle showed plainly above his ridged hand--a particularly infelicitous t.i.tle it seemed to be under the circ.u.mstances, because Britt was shaking the book like a cudgel and his demeanor was that of a man who was clutching thorns instead of flowers. He advanced on Frank and his voice made harsh clamor in the little room. ”You'd better not take on any more engagements for to-morrow, Vaniman. You'll be mighty busy with me, winding up our business together.”

”Very well, sir. And suppose we leave off all matters between us until then!”