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--"

Mr. Britt scowled at Mr. Files, and the latter slap-slupped on his
slippered way; it was certainly news that Britt had taken on a manager.
Such a personage must be permitted to be familiar. When Mr. Files looked
again, Mr. Orne was eating a second doughnut. He was laying down the law
to a nodding and assenting Mr. Britt on some point, and then he took a
third doughnut and rose to his feet.

"I'll be back to-night, with full details and further instructions to
you, Britt," declared Mr. Orne, who was known in the county political
circles as "Sniffer" Orne. He combined politics with nursery-stock
canvassing and had a way of his own in getting under the skins of men