"I am merely to be quiet and trust everything to you," I continued.
"Oh, well,—if you—"
"One moment—let me take a few more words out of your mouth. You are not certain, I am to remember, that anything will come of it, but you think something will. You think you may say that much. But I am again to remember not to talk about it. There! That's it, isn't it?"
He was entirely serious.
"Well, that's practically it. But I don't mind hinting a little, in strict confidence." He dropped into a chair, sitting earnestly forward.
"You see, Cal, I remembered a little remark Mrs. Potts once made. I believe it was the day after Mrs. Lansdale entertained the ladies' club last summer—I remember she was complaining of a headache—"
"I never knew Mrs. Potts to make a little remark," I said. I was not to be trifled with. Solon grinned.
"Well, perhaps this one wasn't so very little, only I never thought of it again until this morning. It was about Mrs. Lansdale's furniture."
"Indeed," I said in cold disinterest, having designed to be told more.
"Well, Mrs. Potts thinks there may be something in it."
His effort was to seem significant, but those things are apt to fail with me.
