"Good gracious!" Alice cried. "I should think I used to hear
enough about that horrible old glue factory to know something
about it!"

"No," her mother returned patiently. "You've never heard
anything about it at all."

"I haven't?"

"No. Your father and I didn't discuss it before you children.
All you ever heard was when he'd get in such a rage, after we'd
been speaking of it, that he couldn't control himself when you
came in. Wasn't _I_ always quiet? Did _I_ ever go on talking
about it?"

"No; perhaps not. But you're talking about it now, mama, after
you promised never to mention it again."

"I promised not to mention it to your father," said Mrs. Adams,
gently. "I haven't mentioned it to him, have I?"

"Ah, but if you mention it to me I'm afraid you WILL mention it
to him. You always do speak of things that you have on your
mind, and you might get papa all stirred up again about--" Alice
paused, a light of divination flickering in her eyes. "Oh!" she
cried. "I SEE!"

"What do you see?"