"Oh, Tuesday or Wednesday."
"Tuesday will be satisfactory. What hour?"
"Well, some time in the forenoon, I guess."
"Ten o'clock be all right?"
"Yes, ten o'clock will do."
"Very well, I'll be there at ten sharp."
Tuesday morning, at ten sharp, Socratic stood by Brainerd's desk. Brainerd was working away like a busy little high-pressure hoisting-engine. He looked up with a bright smile.
"Oh, it's you, is it? Sorry, but I can't do anything for you to-day. I'm awfully up against it for time. Can't you drop in a little later in the week?"
"What day?" Socratic asked.
"Oh, Thursday or Friday," a little impatiently.