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Updated: June 24, 2025
Even at that rate, Ossian Orne did insist that Harnden was a complete fool. Orne would not take town orders for his nursery stock. But Orne's nose was out of joint, it was generally agreed.
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.
I've had some poor luck with Files when he's off his schedule time!" "The new combination of Harnden and Britt will make 'em sit up and take notice," persisted the inventor. Forgetting Vona, desiring to impress a skeptic from the outside world, he followed Starr and the banker. Vaniman and the girl listened to the optimist's fervid declarations till the slam of the outside door shut them off.
But in the meantime a good lawyer has told me what to do and has given me the documents, and I'm not trying the case in your dooryard. I have levied on those oxen and I shall take 'em along." "Do you hear that, Harnden? That's what you have done to your town," bellowed the infuriated selectman.
There was the remnant of a roll of tape on the floor. Mr. Starr wrapped the fragment of tape in a sheet of paper along with the roll. Then Mr. Harnden arrived. The outer door had been left open for him. He had run so fast that his breath came in whistles with the effect of a penny squawker.
Britt began his program of general anathema by shaking his fist at the Harnden house after he had reached the street. He shook his fist at the other houses along the way as he went tramping in the middle of the road toward his home. He even brandished his fist at his own statue in the facade of Britt Block.
"I know everybody in the state worth knowing. I told you so." Mr. Starr was not effusive; there was a hint of sarcasm in his inquiry as to how the invention business was coming along. "Fine and flourishing!" announced Harnden, radiantly. Then he blurted some news which seemed to embarrass Britt very much; the news also provoked intense interest in Vaniman and the daughter.
That is so. My father died there. But it was wicked injustice. You and your father and mother are entitled to know that an honest man was made a scapegoat." "Excuse me!" broke in Harnden. "We are outsiders and will probably remain so, and have no hankering to pry into family matters." "I did not intend to tell the story now, Mr. Harnden.
"You think the directors would keep you on in that job, do you, Vaniman, if you forced the issue?" "I do! Jealousy and petty spite would not show up very strong in a board meeting, Mr. Britt." Britt shook the paper. "How would this show up?" Vaniman did not lose his composure. "Why don't you read it aloud? You have stirred curiosity in Mr. and Mrs. Harnden, I see."
If that's so, I'm waking up to the reason for it your grub has petrified me. My real friends have noticed it." Here was more of Britt's unwonted garrulity about his private concerns. "Some of those friends have taken pity on me. I have been invited to board with the Harnden family." Mr. Britt did not look around to note the effect of that piece of news. He gazed complacently up into the sunshine.
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