"Well, mine's Colton. I sent you a letter this morning. Did you get it?"



CHAPTER IV


I sat up on the couch. Mr. Colton knocked the ashes from his cigar,
waited an instant, and then repeated his question.

"Did you get my letter?" he asked.

"Yes," I said.

"Oh, you did. I was afraid that man of mine might have forgotten to mail
it."

"No, I got it. Won't you--er--won't you sit down?" He pulled the
armchair toward him and sat down. I noticed that he had a habit of doing
things quickly. His sentences were short and to the point and he spoke
and acted like one accustomed to having his own way. He crossed his
knees and looked about the little building.

"It is a pleasant day," I observed, for the sake of saying something.
He did not seem to hear me, or, if he did, he was not interested in the
weather. For my part I found the situation embarrassing. I knew what his
next question would be, and I did not know how to answer. Sure enough,
he asked it.

"I wrote you to come over to my place this forenoon," he said. "You