When Egypt Went Broke by Holman Day (classic books to read TXT) 📖

the oppressed town. "We're sending a good man to the next legislature."
But Britt, in that new mood of his, was refusing to be baited. He began to look about. "Where is that person who calls himself a Prophet?"
The others joined with Britt in making a survey of the landscape. Nobody had been paying any attention to Elias, whose voice had been stilled since the one-sided affair with Britt.
"There he is," announced a man.
The Prophet was patrolling. He was marching to and fro in front of Britt's house. Then he walked in through a gap in Britt's fence and went to the house and peered in at one of the windows. He had lowered and folded his big umbrella and carried it under his arm.
"I call on all of you to note what he did then," called Britt. "He has been doing that lately."
The Prophet returned to the road. Then he seemed to be attacked by another idea. He went back through the gap in the fence and peered in at another window.
"I repeat, he has been doing that. I was getting ready to take proper measures to handle him. Something better than talking back to a lunatic! But I didn't reckon I'd have such good luck as this! Twelve men right here for my witnesses! Look hard at him, men!"
They did look, though they did not comprehend what Britt's excited insistence signified. He pulled out a notebook and pencil and handed it to the nearest man. "Mark down two! Mark it down--and all of you take due notice."
The Prophet returned to the highway and came slowly pacing along toward the group.
"All of you saw, did you? All of you ready to bear witness?" demanded the magnate.
He stepped out in front of Elias when the latter came near. Britt shook the roll of drawings under the Prophet's nose. "Listen here, my man! I didn't bother to talk to you a few minutes ago. Now I'm talking. You've been a vagabond in this town for a long time. The only thing that has protected you from the law in such cases made and provided has been the roof of a man who ought to be a tramp along with you. Right now, before the eyes of a dozen citizens, you have committed two separate and distinct breaches of the law. You have trespassed on my property. In the past I have sent men to jail for sixty days for one offense of that sort. On my complaint, backed by these witnesses, you'll see sixty days on one case--and I'll have you re-arrested on the other count the moment you step foot out of the jail." He paused.
"Yes?" said the Prophet, mildly inquiring.
"I'm a fair man, and I call the attention of these witnesses to what I say now. I'll give you a chance. Walk out of this town and stay out, and I'll not prosecute."
The Prophet shook his head.
"Do you refuse to go?"
For a man who dealt so exclusively in texts, the Prophet was rather vulgarly blunt when he replied, "You bet!"
Britt received that manner of retort with the air of a man who had been tunked between the eyes. It was some moments before he could go on. "Don't you realize what the judge will say when I show up your willfulness?"
The Prophet was even more amazing in his new manners. He stuck out his tongue, put his thumb to his nose, and wriggled his fingers.
"Well, I'll be condemned!" Britt gasped.
"Sure! When all the evidence is in about you!"
The magnate of Egypt lowered the roll that he had brandished so constantly. After a few moments of silent challenge with the eyes, he turned and walked away.
But he heard the mumble of men's laughter behind him, and his anger and the determination not to be put down in this style in his own town helped him to get back some of his self-possession. He whirled on his heels and strode to the enigma of Egypt.
"Who are you, anyway?" he demanded.
But Prophet Elias was his usual self once more. He had assumed that air which a practical man like Britt found an aggravating, teasing pose or a kind of lunacy with which common sense could not cope. Elias slowly spread his umbrella. He stood beneath it and declaimed:
"'And Moses and Aaron did all these wonders before Pharaoh; and the Lord hardened Pharaoh's heart, so that he would not let the children of Israel go out of his land.'"
"You let me tell you something! There's one man going out of this land mighty sudden--and he's going to the county jail in charge of a constable."
When Britt started away that time he kept on going. He went to the office of Trial-Justice Bowman and swore out a warrant. A constable served it and the Prophet was haled before the justice. On the evidence presented, Bowman sentenced a person known as "the Prophet Elias" to serve sixty days in the county jail. Within an hour after the Prophet's defiance he was on his way with the constable in a side-bar buggy.
The Prophet had not opened his mouth to give out even one text. He had not opened his mouth, either, to give his name; the writ designated him merely by his sobriquet. But there was a queer little wrinkle at each corner of that closed mouth.


CHAPTER XX
NO STRAW FOR THE BRICKS
Mr. Harnden banged his pulpy fist on the board at which so he had declared, Tasper Britt was to sit.
"I have ruled a happy home by love in the past. Don't force me to rule it otherwise now."
He was obliged to lower his eyes to a level at last because his neck ached. He was forced to turn those eyes in his daughter's direction, for her gaze was of that compelling quality which causes the object of regard to return the scrutiny.
"I tell you, I'm not lowering myself by taking in boarders," the father insisted. "I have become tied up in a business way with my friend Britt. We need to be in conference right along. They're going to tear down his house. Shall I let it be said that I left a friend ahungered and without a roof? Shall--"
"Father, I'm no longer patient enough to listen to any more of that nonsense," said Vona.
"But it isn't nonsense," put in the mother. "Poor Tasper is left without a home. Files's vittles have nigh killed him. He was always used to home cooking. He--"
"Please! Please!" protested the girl, impatiently. "We're three grown-ups. Let's be honest with one another. I, at least, have been honest--ever since I declared myself under this roof last winter."
"If you're bound to put your father's and your mother's close friendship for a man strictly on the business basis, we'll have it that way," agreed Mr. Harnden, trying to straightedge his little bunghole of a mouth and failing.
"Very well, father! We shall get along better. I'm not in any position to dictate in our home--"
"Well, I should say not!" exploded the master.
"But I have worked and turned in my money to help support it, and I have my personal rights here."
Mr. Harnden had more success in arranging the expression he assumed then; he looked hurt; he had been very successful with that expression in the past. "Any farseeing man has his ups and downs, Vona. Is it kind to twit your father--"
She protested more impatiently still. "I am simply presenting the business side of the matter. I say, I have earned some rights to be comfortable in my own home. On the plea of friendship for a man whom I detest, you are proposing to destroy that comfort. Is your friendship for that man greater than your love for your daughter?"
Mr. Harnden rose and stuck out his frontal convexity and wagged a forefinger. "Now you're getting off the question of business--just as you accused me of getting off it!" He slapped his breast. "I'm a business man these days. I'm no longer a man with visions, needing a daughter's sacrifices, like you have twitted me of being. Keep still! I'm talking!" he squealed. He was displaying more of the new and cocky demeanor that had been his for some time. He had been especially set up for a few days prior to his announcement that Tasper Britt was coming into the Harnden home as lodger and guest at table. "Business it is! Britt will pay board enough, seeing that he has come to my--_my_ terms, so that your mother can keep a hired girl for the first time in her life. Are you so selfish as to want to have your mother--my wife--go on potwalloping in the kitchen for the rest of her days? If that's so, you'll find that my pride will override your selfishness."
"Father, I will stay at home and do all the work, if you'll keep our home from being desecrated by that man!"
Mr. Harnden reared his crest and advanced one foot. "I have raised my daughter to be a lady and will keep her so! I'm now in a position to do it without any of her help."
Vona stood up then. But not to fling angry retort at her father! She knew that she was able to conquer the raging self that was urging her to tell both of them what she thought of their idiotic persistency in backing the attentions of Britt. Being victor over herself in that conflict with self where so many fail, she felt courage to battle in another quarter. Since Frank had been penned up where he could not fight, she had felt that she was the champion for their mutual interests, and she was resolved to keep on valiantly. "Father, you know how I stand in the matter of Frank Vaniman."
"I have broken your engagement with that jailbird."
"Vona, I have told you repeatedly that I will never consent to your marrying that man," shrilled Mrs. Harnden. "What does the Bible say about obeying your parents?"
The girl was tensely suppressing her emotions. "The outsiders merely know that I am engaged to marry him. But both of you know that I am married to him."
Mr. Harnden sat down in order to express his emotions; Mrs. Harnden stood up. Their duet of disavowal of any such knowledge was keyed high.
"You heard me when I married him--in your presence--under this roof. The legal formality can wait. But I am married. In my heart I am married. It is enough for me until he comes back to me. And what God hath joined together let not man put asunder!" She said it reverently, with all her soul in her tones, all her woman's resolution of loyalty in her eyes.
They tried to say something, but in the face of her demeanor of firmness their opposition was futile, and they probably realized it, for they became silent and allowed her to speak on.
"If you do not choose to consider my feelings in the matter, I'll not complain. You are master and mistress of the home. I tell you now, as I have told you before, that if Tasper Britt had come out with the whole truth Frank would not be in prison. You must not expect that I will sit at table with a man who has so persecuted my--husband!" She hesitated a moment before she spoke the last word. She caressed it with loving inflection. A moment later her cheeks were burning hotly. She went out into the hall, got her sunshade, and left the house.
She still had her work at the bank; the progress of liquidation was slow. Tasper Britt, from his office window, saw her coming. She wore no hat. The