the picture of a girl, a full-length view of a mighty pretty girl whose
smiling face was backed by an open sunshade. She was in white garb 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