“Vona, I never want to feel again as I did this afternoon when I allowed you to go alone on an errand that concerned us both.  After this, I’m going to stand up, man fashion, and do the talking for the two of us.”

CHAPTER VIII

TWO AGAINST THE FIELD

Mr. Harnden had not had a bit of trouble late that afternoon in securing a promise from Tasper Britt to give him audience and view the plans and specifications of Mr. Harnden’s latest invention.  In fact, the consent had been secured so easily that Mr. Harnden, freshly arrived in town on Ike Jones’s stage, and having heard no Egypt gossip during a prolonged absence from home, had blinked at Britt with the air of a man who had expected to find a door held against him, had pushed hard, and had tumbled head over heels when nothing opposed him.

Mr. Harnden went out on the street and put himself in the way of hearing some gossip.  Then he went directly back into Britt’s office and shook hands with the money king, giving Mr. Britt an arch look which suggested that Mr. Harnden knew a whole lot that he was not going to talk about right then.  He said, ascribing the idea to second thought, that it might be cozier and handier to view the plans at the Harnden home.  Mr. Britt agreed with a heartiness that clinched the hopes which gossip had given Mr. Harnden.  The father causally said he supposed, of course, that Vona had gone home long before from the bank, and he watched Mr. Britt’s expression when the banker replied to a question as to how she was getting on with her work.

“Yes, siree, she’s a smart girl,” corroborated the father, “and I have always impressed on her mind that some day she was bound to rise high and get what she deserves to have.  Come early, Tasper, and we’ll make a pleasant evening of it.”

Mr. Britt went early, but not early enough to catch Vona before she left for the rehearsal.

Although it had been particularly easy to get Mr. Britt to come to the house, Mr. Harnden was not finding it easy to hold his prospective backer’s attention.  The patent project under consideration was what the inventor called “a duplex door,” designed to keep kitchen odors from dining rooms.  Mr. Harnden had a model of the apparatus.  With his forefinger he kept tripping the doors, showing how a person’s weight operated the contrivance, shutting the doors behind and simultaneously opening the doors in front; but Mr. Harnden did not draw attention to the palpable fact that a waiter would need to have the agility of a flea to escape being swatted in the rear or banged in the face.

Mr. Britt watched the model’s operations with lackluster eyes; he seemed to be looking through the little doors and at something else that was not visible to the inventor.

Mr. Harnden was short and roly-poly, with a little round mouth and big round eyes, and a curlicue of topknot that he wagged in emphasis as a unicorn might brandish his horn.  Mr. Harnden considered that he was a good talker.  He was considerably piqued by Britt’s apparent failure to get interested, although the banker was making considerable of an effort to return suitable replies when the inventor pinned him to answers.