"Yes."

"It WAS! Well, by time! What did a man like Mr. Colton write to you
about?"

Among his other lackings Lute was conspicuously short of tact. This was
no time for him to ask me such a question, especially to emphasize the
"you."

"Why shouldn't he write to me?" I asked, tartly.

"But--but HIM--writin' to YOU!"

"Humph! Even a god stoops once in a while. Read your mythology, Lute."

"Hey? Say, look here, what are you swearin' about?"

"Swearing? Oh, that's all right. The god I referred to was a heathen
one."

"Well, it's a good thing Dorindy didn't hear you; she's down on
swearin', heathen or any other kind. But what did Mr. Colton write to
you for?"

"He says he wants to see me."

"See you? What for?"

"Don't know. Perhaps he wants to borrow money."