"Now what do you think of that? The youth I described to you at such length keeps a diary, and the foregoing is culled therefrom. He left it by some mistake on top of his desk, and I picked it up innocently enough to-night, to see what it was, and that was the first thing my eye lit on. He is evidently an adept at coming to conclusions, apparently he can sum one up in two whisks of a porter's broom. I was much surprised to find myself so well done. Done on every side in those few words. I've rather enjoyed it; strikes me as being uproariously funny. Maybe his dictum is correct. You'll agree with me as to his richness. Tell every one about it and see what they will think. Tell your mother and my mother. Tell Jack and give him a chance to laugh. Tell Mayme Carter, too." Lavinia ran at once to her mother. "Listen," she said. And she read it. Mrs. Blair laughed. "How funny!" she said, "and how well he writes! I should think he'd go into literature." Lavinia laid the letter down in her lap and looked at her mother as if she had been startled by a striking coincidence. "Why, do you know, I've thought of that very thing myself." "But read on," urged Mrs. Blair. Lavinia picked up the letter again and began: "Well, de--" "Oh," she exclaimed, blushing hotly, "I can't read you that. Let's see--" She leafed over the letter, one, two, three, four sheets. Mrs. Blair was smiling. "Aren't you leaving out the best parts?" she asked archly. "Oh, there's nothing," Lavinia said, not looking up. "But--oh, well, this is all. He says-- "'There is a good deal of unrest and uneasiness here just now, because the first of May is coming. The road is anticipating trouble with the freight handlers; they may go out on a strike that day.' "Oh, dear," sighed Lavinia, "more strikes, and I suppose that means more trouble for Glenn." "Why, the strike of those men can't affect him," Mrs. Blair assured her. "He's a clerk now." "Yes, I know, but what if he gets the notion he ought to help them by quitting too?" CHAPTER XXVIII THE TALK OF THE TOWN Macochee's common interest in Marley was sharpened by his leaving town, and out of the curiosity that raged, Lawrence and Mayme Carter one evening made a call on Lavinia. "Well, Lavinia," said Lawrence, almost as soon as they were seated in the parlor, "what's the news about Glenn? How's he getting along?" "Oh, pretty well," she said, smiling. "Does he like Chicago?" "Oh, yes; that is, fairly well." "Run get his letters and let us read them." "Why, Jack! The idea!" Mayme rebuked him. But Lavinia instantly got up. "Well, I'll read you part of one or two," she said. "He can tell you much better than I all about himself." She was gone from the room a moment and then returned with two thick envelopes. "My, Lavinia, you don't intend to read all that, do you?" Lawrence made a burlesque of looking at his watch.