pper 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 dinky 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 title 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 embarrassment of overwhelming intensity; there
was no detail of the affair in front of Usial's cot that had not been
canvassed 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.