"Well." said Adams, "I rather you didn't mention it till I get started—of course anybody'll know what it is by then—but I have been kind of planning to put a liquid glue on the market."
His friend, still ruffling the gray moustache upward, stared at him in frowning perplexity. "Glue?" he said. "Glue!"
"Yes. I been sort of milling over the idea of taking up something like that."
"Handlin' it for some firm, you mean?"
"No. Making it. Sort of a glue-works likely."
Lohr continued to frown. "Let me think," he said. "Didn't the ole man have some such idea once, himself?"
Adams leaned forward, rubbing his knees; and he coughed again before he spoke. "Well, yes. Fact is, he did. That is to say, a mighty long while ago he did."
"I remember," said Lohr. "He never said anything about it that I know of; but seems to me I recollect we had sort of a rumour around the place how you and that man—le's see, wasn't his name Campbell, that died of typhoid fever? Yes, that was it, Campbell. Didn't the ole man have you and Campbell workin' sort of private on some glue proposition or other?"
