“They should equip the manse with a vacuum cleaner. Been rather busy to-day?”
“Somewhat. Have you?” Black’s glance said that in both cases the fact went without saying.
“I heard of you in a place or two—been on your trail more or less all day, as it happens.”
“I presume so. This is my day for calling at the hospital. It struck me I was on your trail, Doctor.”
“A sort of vicious circle? If you feel as vicious as I do after it, you’re ready for anything. What do you say to a camp supper in the woods to-night—instead of tinned beans?”
There were two items in this speech which arrested Black’s attention. He stopped dusting. “What do you know about tinned beans?” he inquired, suspiciously.
“Tom has no use for ’em,” was the innocent reply. “Never mind—he didn’t tell anybody but me. I’ve been having things rather thick myself lately, and just now—well, I feel like taking to the tall timber. Want to go with me? The woods are rather nice—on a dry winter night like this.”
“You don’t mean it literally—a camp supper?”
“Good Lord, man, where were you brought up? I thought you were a country boy?”
“I am—of the South country—Scotland first—the States second. But I never went camping in my life. I never had time.”