Wren rattled all this off in a breath. Mrs. Fowler smiled.
"My, Jimmy, but I wish I had your eager vitality! You seem to have more pep to-day than you've had in a month! Does the passing of an elderly relative always affect you this way?"
Wren grinned, but took warning. He shook his head.
"No, but the prospect of a change of scene probably is responsible. Things are in bad shape at the office, you know. Macgowan has completely won his fight, and Armstrong has given up the battle entirely. I'm glad to get away from the gloom."
The lady's eyes gleamed, and the gleam was swiftly hidden.
"Poor boy!" she commiserated softly. "And you're so devoted to Armstrong, too! I do hope that things will take a turn for the better from now on."
"They will," said Jimmy devoutly. "Now that the fight's over, even if we've been well beaten, we'll try to take out the smart by going ahead with other things and forgetting the defeat."
He knew better than to try and extract any information, and contented himself with supplying as mendacious an account as possible to be taken to Macgowan's ears. Presently he glanced at his watch and rose, giving an exclamation of dismay.
"I didn't dream how the time has gone—I'll have to rush for it! A thousand things to do yet! If I'm back Tuesday, may I see you?"
"The first minute you can, my dear Jimmy!" Mrs. Fowler rose and held out both hands to him warmly. "Will the aunt leave you a fortune?"