Brenton, pulling himself back to the present, looked up sharply at the question.
"How did you know?"
"He wrote me. What does he suggest?"
"Didn't he tell you that? He wants me to go down to him, and take over some of his settlement work."
"Shall you go?"
Brenton shook his head.
"It's out of the question, Opdyke. I only wish I could, for I am not of much use to your father, I'm afraid. Still, hereafter—Well, perhaps you've put new force into me by your admonitions." But his voice broke a little over the intentionally careless words.
Opdyke ignored the allusion.
"Then why not go to Whittenden?" he inquired, as carelessly as he was able.
Brenton arose and stood, erect, looking down at his old friend intently, as if anxious that Opdyke should lose no fragment of his meaning.