"Not to-day, I'm afraid, Mr. Remsen. I'm just going to the post office for some paper, and--"
"Well, come and see me some time. I'm pretty nearly always at home in the evenings and will be very glad to see you. And bring your friend West with you. That's my headquarters down there, the yellow house; Mrs. Hutchins's. If you cut across the field here it will save you quite a distance. Good-by; and get to bed early to-night, March, if you can. There's nothing like a good sleep before a game."
"Good-by," answered Joel. Then, "Mr. Remsen, one minute, please, sir," he called. "Are you any relation to the Remsens that live near Clairmont, in Maine, sir?"
"Why, I shouldn't wonder," answered Remsen, with a smile. "I think I've heard my father speak of relatives in Maine, but I don't recollect where. Why do you ask?"
"My mother wrote me to find out. She's very much interested in people's relatives, Mr. Remsen, and so I thought I'd ask and let her know. You didn't mind my asking you, did you?"
"Certainly not. Tell your mother, March, that I hope those Remsens are some of my folks, because I should like to be related to her friends. And say, March, when you're writing to your mother about me you needn't say anything about those explosions, need you?"
"I don't think it will be necessary, sir," laughed Joel.
"Very well; then just mention me as a dignified and reverend attorney-at-law, and we'll keep the rest a secret between us."