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.