Mrs. Adams admitted to her daughter that it was “the old glue factory” and that her husband's wildness had frightened her into a “solemn promise” never to mention the subject again so long as she had breath. Alice laughed. The “glue factory" idea was not only a bore, but ridiculous, and her mother's evident seriousness about it one of those inexplicable vagaries we sometimes discover in the people we know best. But this Sunday rampage appeared to be the end of it, and when Adams came down to dinner, an hour later, he was unusually cheerful. Alice was glad he had gone wild enough to settle the glue factory once and for all; and she had ceased to think of the episode long before Friday of that week, when Adams was brought home in the middle of the afternoon by his old employer, the “great J. A. Lamb,” in the latter's car.
During the long illness the “glue factory” was completely forgotten, by Alice at least; and her laugh was rueful as well as derisive now, in the kitchen, when she realized that her mother's mind again dwelt upon this abandoned nuisance. “I thought you'd got over all that nonsense, mama,” she said.
Mrs. Adams smiled, pathetically. “Of course you think it's nonsense, dearie. Young people think everything's nonsense that they don't know anything about.”
“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!”