“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!”