Mr. Harnden tried his best to cheer the morose Britt.  Some days the usurer-suitor wanted to cuff the optimist; some days he felt that he would go crazy unless Harnden could extend some hope, suggest some way of changing the girl’s attitude.

All the time Mr. Harnden was very cheerful and extremely busy; his nag kicked up the dust along all the roads.  His book of lithographs was dog’s-eared with much thumbing, but he had served as a human vacuum cleaner in sucking up most of the town orders.  Mr. Harnden was very free with information, customarily.  But when folks asked him whatever in the world he expected to do with those town orders he was reticent as to any details of his plans.  He considered that his optimism of faith in the future of the town covered the matter.  He said so.  He let it go at that.

One day Harnden roamed far afield and went to the shire.

The next day he came back from the shire.

After supper he sat in a wicker chair on the lawn with Tasper Britt, who was wearing a new suit of white flannel and who scowled when Vona passed along the walk without even a glance in that direction, though Britt had twitched up his trousers leg to show a particularly handsomely clocked sock.

Mr. Harnden did a lot of talking that evening.  Every now and then, as if to fortify his optimistic courage, he declared, “After all, business is business—­and the trend of the times is to make the most of opportunity.”

Britt was showing interest in what Harnden was saying—­interest and satisfaction, too.  But all at once that interest was diverted and the smooth satisfaction was wrinkled by a scowl.  Britt swore roundly and struggled up from his chair.

Prophet Elias was passing along the street.  He flapped his hand in a greeting contemptuously indifferent and went on his way toward Usial’s cot.

“Oh!  I was intending to tell you about him,” avowed Mr. Harnden, “but I’ve had more important things to talk over!”

Britt gave to this blunderheaded news purveyor the tail end of the malevolent stare that he had been bestowing on the Prophet’s back.

“I heard about it when I was over to the shire town.  A city lawyer showed up the other day and deposited cash bonds and got out a writ, and got Elias out, too, and the case has been appealed.  Looks like the Prophet has footed it back here again.  But I suppose you can arrest him on that other case of trespass.”

Britt did not show especial alacrity in starting anything else in the case of the new arrival in town.  He sat down.  “Who was the lawyer?  Who sent him?”

“Guess he didn’t say.  Let the money do the talking for him.  And money can talk!  Now, as I was saying, to get back to our regular business, it’s up to you to name the ones that Dowd will tackle.  Say, where are you going?”

Britt was on his feet and moving rapidly.  “Somewhere to do some thinking away from that carpet-loom, shuttle-tongued, infernal mouth of yours!”