allowed the wretched Argus to drop from her disapproving fingers, and began to ask us questions, as to a place of worship, a house suitable for residence purposes, a school for little Roscoe, and the nature of those clubs or societies for mental improvement that might exist among us. And she asked about Families. We were obliged to confess that there were no Families in Little Arcady, in the true sense of the term, though we did not divine its true sense until she favored us with the detail that her second cousin had married a relative of the Adams family. We said honestly that we were devoid of Families in that sense. None of us had ever been able to marry an Adams. No Adams with a consenting mind—not even a partial Adams—had ever come among us.
Still, Mrs. Potts wore her distinction gracefully, and was even a little apologetic.
"In Boston, you know, we rather like to know 'who's who,' as the saying is."
"Out here," said Solon, "we like to know what's what." He had revived wonderfully after his beloved Argus was dropped. But at his retort the lady merely elevated her rather fine brows and remarked, "Really, Mr. Denney, you speak much as you write—you must not let me forget to give you that little book I spoke of."
As we went down the stairs Solon placed "One Hundred Common Errors in Speaking and Writing" close under his arm, adroitly shielding the title from public scrutiny. We stood a moment in the autumn
