rb and
wore no hat.

"Vona," said Mr. Britt, talking out as if the sound of his voice
fortified his faith, "you're going to see this thing in the right way,
give you time. I'm starting late--but I'm blasted wide awake from now
on. I have gone after money, but money ain't everything. I reckon that
by to-night I can show you honors that you'll share with me--they've
been waiting for me, and now I'll reach out and take 'em for your sake.
Hittie didn't know what to do with money--honors would have bothered
her. But with a girl like you I can grab in and relish living for the
rest of this life."

Then Mr. Britt went over to the tavern to get his breakfast.

By eating his three meals per day at the tavern he was indulging his new
sense of liberty. He and Hittie always used to eat in the kitchen--meals
on the dot, as to time. The tavern was little and dingy, and Egypt was
off the railroad line, and there were few patrons, and old Files cut his
steak very close to the critter's horn. But after the years of routine
at a home table there was a sort of clubman, devil-may-care suggestion
about this new regime at the tavern; and after his meals Britt sat in
the tavern office and smoked a cigar. Furthermore, he held a mortgage
on the tavern and Files was behind on the interest and was eagerly and
humbly glad to pay his creditor with food. In order to impress a peddler
or other transient guest the creditor was in the habit of calling in
Files and ordering him to recook portions.

In his new sense of expansion as a magnate, Tasper Britt took his time
about eating and allowed men with whom he had dealings to come into the
dining room and sit down opposite and state their cases.

That morning Ossian Orne came in and sat at the table without asking for
permission to be admitted to such intimacy. He came with the air of a
man who was keeping an appointment, and Mr. Britt's manner of greeting
Orne showed that this was so.

Mr. Orne did not remove the earlapper cap which the nippy February day
demanded; nor did he shuck off the buffalo coat whose baldness in the
rear below the waistline suggested the sedentary habits of Mr. Orne.
He selected a doughnut from the plate at Britt's elbow and munched
placidly.

Landlord Files, who was bringing ham and eggs to a commercial drummer,
was amazed by this familiarity and stopped and showed that amazement. He
was more astonished by what he overheard. Mr. Orne was saying, "As your
manager, Britt