“Not really! I have an uncle and some cousins there. Just today we had a letter at the office from Laconia, an inquiry about a snarl in the title to some property. Mr. Mills’s father—of the same name—once had some interests there—a stave factory, I think it was. Long before your day, of course. He bought some land near the plant—the Millses have always gone in strong for real estate—thinking he might need it if the business developed. Mr. Mills was there for a while as a young man. Suppose he didn’t like the business, and his father sold out. I was there a year ago visiting my relations and I met some Bruces—Miss Carolyn Bruce—awfully jolly girl—related to you?”
“My cousin. Bruce was my mother’s name.”
“The old saying about the smallness of the world! Splendid girl—not married yet?”
“Not when I heard from her last week.”
“We might drive over there sometime next spring and see her.”
“Fine. Carolyn was always a great pal of mine. Laconia’s a sociable town. Everybody knows everybody else; it’s like a big family. We can’t laugh so gaily at the small towns; they’ve got a lot that’s mighty fine. I sometimes think our social and political regeneration has got to begin with the small units.”
“I say that sometimes to Mr. Mills,” Carroll continued. “But he’s of the old ultra-conservative school; a pessimist as to the future, or pretends to be. He really sees most things pretty straight. But men of his sort hate the idea of change. They prefer things as they are.”
“I think we all want the changes to come slowly—gradual evolution socially and politically,” Bruce ventured. “That’s the only safe way. The great business of the world is to find happiness—get rid of misery and violence and hatred. I’m for everything that moves toward that end.”
“I’m with you there,” Carroll replied quickly.
Bruce’s liking for Carroll increased. Mills’s secretary was not only an agreeable companion but he expressed views on many questions that showed knowledge and sound reasoning. He referred to Mills now and then, always with respect but never with any trace of subserviency. Bruce, now that his fear had passed, was deriving a degree of courage merely from talking with Carroll. Carroll, in daily contact with Mills, evidently was not afraid of him. And what had he, Bruce Storrs, to fear from Franklin Mills? There could not have been any scandal about Mills’s affair with his mother or she herself would probably have mentioned it; or more likely she would never have told him her story. Carroll’s visit was reassuring every way that Bruce considered it.