“Why should I begin to set dates now, when I never have in past times?”

“Oh, I suppose it’s because we’ve got so used to having you at home,” she confessed.

“I’m leaving matters in better shape than I ever did before,” said Mr. Harnden, pompously.  “I have been worried about my home in the past when I have had to be absent on my business.  We have Tasper in the house now.  And he will not only guard and protect, but he will pay as he goes.  I may not go far or stay long.  Just let it stand that way.  Tell inquiring friends that.  I’ll keep you posted.  You know what my business is; it takes me here—­it takes me there.”  He gave his wife a peck of a kiss and patted Vona’s shoulder when he passed her.  He picked up a valise in the hallway.

The girl followed him.  “Father, always when you have been away, mother and I have felt perfectly comfortable and safe here in our home.  If Mr. Britt hasn’t the sense or the good taste to go somewhere else to board, won’t you suggest to him that he’d better do so?”

“Nothing of the sort, Vona!” declared Harnden.  “That contractor has brought a lot of strangers here to work on Britt’s house, seeing that the men of this town are biting off their noses to spite their faces!  I wouldn’t take a minute’s peace, knowing that my home is unprotected, unless I felt that a friend of mine was here as guardian.  Oh, I know what you mean!  But I have the safety of my family to consider instead of a girl’s whims.”

She did not argue the matter.  His peppery impatience was increasing.  This time he was not departing with his customary bland hopefulness.  She knew the sort of selfishness her father possessed and how he avoided scenes that troubled his smug serenity.  But on this occasion he seemed to be impelled by some urgent reason outside of mere anxiety to be away from complaining tongues.

He hurried out of the house and went to the stable, and she said no further word.

Ten minutes later he drove away, flinging a kiss to his womenfolks from the finger tips of the yellow gloves.

He headed directly out of the village and drove at a good clip.

However, one might have concluded that Mr. Harnden’s destination was not as clearly settled in his mind as the haste of his departure suggested.  When he came to four corners he pulled up and looked to right and to left and to the straight ahead.  Mr. Harnden was too well acquainted with all the roads of Egypt and its environs to be confused by anything except strictly personal and peculiar doubts which had nothing to do with the matter of destination.  He looked up into the heavens, as if he really wished that he might be able to escape from Egypt by flight.  Then he did literally what the Yankee phrase suggests by way of synonym for taking counsel—­“he looked between the horse’s ears.”  He narrowed his eyes in meditation and spoke aloud.  “I reckon it’s only general nervousness on account of overwork and women’s foolishness.  There ain’t one chance in ten that they’ll get around to it to-day.”