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Updated: June 24, 2025
But when he turned to face those in the office he reached behind himself and opened the door again; the sight of the girl had prompted him. "I suggest that this is a good time for you to be going along, Miss Harnden. You'll have plenty of company." But she showed no inclination to go. She was exhibiting something like a desperate resolve. "Will you please shut the door, Mr. Starr?" He obeyed.
"If there is a law, I hope you'll stay handy by in this town and prosecute while we're heating the tar and getting the feathers ready." Sheriff Dowd took advantage of Selectman Grant's preoccupation with Harnden. He gave off orders to his helpers and they lowered the bars of the barnyard and started away with the cows. There was a general disintegration of the group. Mrs.
"While this town was staggering along, trying to find a way out, only a hellion would take and make a club out of those orders and hit us the last and final clip with 'em. You've done it, Harnden! For the sake of the dirty money you've done it. They were letting those orders rest easy till we could get the legislature and have things put into some condition where we'd know what's what.
But there were more who were certain that it was not the style of Britt to invest in any such remote possibility as a girl who openly declared that she proposed to wait seven years for the man of her choice. Harnden had a new business; he was selling nursery stock. But that business did not account for his prosperity.
When Harnden wheeled the horse and returned he perceived a dooryard group which he had affected not to see a few moments before. There were Jared Sparks Grant, his son, his womenfolks, his hired man; Mr. Harnden recognized all of them, of course. He also recognized Deputy-sheriff Wagner Dowd from the shire town. Dowd had a couple of helpers with him.
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.
Vona was distinctly in no condition to say anything sensible; she stared from the figures to Starr, showing utter amazement, and then she mutely appealed to the cashier. "I'm sure that Miss Harnden is remarkably accurate in her work, Mr. Starr," asserted the young man. "I have been in the habit of going over it, myself, and I have found no errors." "Oh, you go over it, do you? That's good!"
I hope you have found this home a haven to-night." She rose and crossed to him and laid the novel in his hands. Mr. Harnden shoved his own hands into his trousers pockets, throwing back his coat from his comfortable frontal convexity.
But every time I buy one of his checks I buy a lot of honest comfort for myself." "I think, young man, that the Harnden family better not interfere with the comfort of the Vaniman family," averred the father, loftily. "I'd hate to think I was a party to taking bread from the mouths of a mother and a sister. I'm sure Vona feels the same way." "Certainly!" supplemented Mrs. Harnden.
Harnden's lithographs showed apples twice as big as Orne's book did; the pears fairly oozed sweetness from their plump, pictured mellowness; there were peaches that provoked folks to make funny noises at the corners of their mouths when the optimistic Harnden flipped a page and brought the fruit to view. Nobody had ever heard of a peach tree growing among the rocks of Egypt.
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