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A man had come thrusting through the crowd in the basement, hurrying in from the outside. It was Squire Amos Hexter. It was hard to determine from his expression which spectacle he found the more astounding Frank Vaniman at bay, in the flesh, or the gold coins that Tasper Britt was dipping with both hands, sluicing them upon the concrete in jingling showers. Squire Hexter did find his voice.
Tasper Britt arose in the gray dawn, as usual. Some fishermen, seeking bait, stay up late and "jack" angleworms with a bull's-eye light. The big worms are abroad on the soil under cover of the darkness. Other fishermen get up early and dig while the dew is holding the smaller worms near the surface of the ground; in going after worms the shrewd operator makes the job easy for himself.
Then the Prophet spatted his palm upon the legend on his breast and clacked a disdainful digit off the pivot of his thumb. Tasper Britt, even in his hottest ire, had been restrained in the past by some influence from laying violent hands on this peculiar personage. It was evident that Starr was controlled by a similar reluctance and that his forbearance was puzzling him.
The Squire set the thumb and forefinger of each hand into a whisker fluff and twisted a couple of spills, squinting at them. "The compliment is esteemed, boys. But the previousness is perplexing. This is February, and the primaries are not till June." "Squire Hexter, it ain't too early to show a man in this town where he gets off. That man is Tasper Britt.
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.
"No, you don't!" bellowed Jones, getting in the way and making grabs at the whip. "Not with my own private persuader! Get aholt of him, men! Down him. Don't let him whale the representative we're going to send from the town of Egypt!" That declared hint of what was afoot put the last touch on Tasper Britt's fury. He fought savagely to force his way through the men.
The village watchman noted that the reflector lamp shone all night on the door of the vault in the Egypt Trust Company; it was the watchman's business to keep track of that light. But he noted also, outside of his regular business, that there was a light for most of the night in Tasper Britt's bedroom.
And the two of them agreed on one thing, more especially: Tasper Britt must have had a strange housecleaning of the heart during that vigil in his home on the hill. Among other convincing evidences of Britt's transformation was his treatment of Prophet Elias at the end of that day. The Prophet did not deliver his usual matutinal taunts in front of Britt Block.
"A man has got to have a happy home before his mind is free for big plans." "My experience exactly!" stated Mr. Harnden, graciously indicating with a wave of the hand the happy home which he rarely graced. "And knowing what I do about the help a good home gives an enterprising man, you've got my full co-operation in your efforts, Tasper." They heard the hall door open. "It's Vona," announced Mrs.
Every now and then the fad of a new trick puzzle a few bits of twisted wire, or a stick and a string will as effectually occupy the time of an entire community as a cowbell will take up the undivided attention of a cur, if the bell is hitched to the cur's tail. The folks of Egypt had a couple of brain-twisters to solve. What had happened to Tasper Britt?
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