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Updated: June 26, 2025
Vona took her stand close to the door, trembling with passionate eagerness. Constantly she appealed to Britt to hurry. When he finally swung open the door she leaped into the vault. He dragged her back, handling her roughly, harshly telling her that it was no place for a girl. "I don't think it is, either," agreed Starr.
Vona, undeterred by her treatment, had followed closely on Starr's heels. She urged them to hurry, calling hysterically. Again the man ahead fumbled at what seemed to be solid wall. Again he was able to open a door of concrete. But Britt, when he was through the narrow door in the lead, was blocked and stopped. He lighted a match.
It's tricky weather, and we must be careful of our guests," agreed Mr. Harnden. "Call again, young sir!" "I will," stated Vaniman. He turned and addressed Vona. "The little matter will take no harm if it's postponed till to-morrow," he told her. His gaze was tender and the girl looked up at him with an expression which even a careless observer would have found telltale.
No telling how the legislature may develop him. Glad he's going." The Squire rapped out his pipe ashes against an andiron. His posture gave him an opportunity to say what he said next without meeting Vaniman's gaze. "Vona Harnden was a mighty smart girl when she was teaching school. I was superintendent and had a chance to know. Does she take hold well in the bank?"
Her quick flush was followed by a pallor that gave her an appearance of anger. "I don't relish that sort of humor." "My gracious, Vona, I wasn't trying to be especially humorous," he protested, staring at her so ingenuously that his candor could not be questioned. "I reckoned that the boss was raising your pay, and was being a bit sly about it! What else can it be?"
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.
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.
Then, when his eyes came down from that complacent countenance, they beheld the face of Tasper Britt framed in his office window. The Britt in the bank was distinctly in an ugly mood. And there was a challenge in his demeanor, a sneer in the twist of his features. "Vona, I'm going in there," Vaniman declared. "There's got to be a showdown, but it's no job for you!"
It was promptly opened so promptly that Mr. Britt was fairly caught at what he was about. He was standing up, shaking both fists at the door and cursing roundly. Vona was gazing at him in alarm. "I was waiting in the corridor, sir, till you till your business till Mr. Orne went away," she stammered. "Come in!" muttered Britt, even more disconcerted than the girl.
The young man had a rancor of his own that he had been holding in leash ever since he had sent Vona to fight her own battle, with his kiss on her cheek. He broke off that vitriolic taunt by dealing Britt an open-handed slap across the mouth, a blow of such force that the man went reeling backward.
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