Potts read the _Argus_ to him with corrections to
make it square with "One Hundred Common Errors" and with good taste, in
no way lessened the feeling against him. If he sustained an injury
peculiar to his calling, it seemed probable that he would the sooner be
moved to action. Little Arcady did not know what he could do, but it had
faith that he would do something if he were pushed hard enough. So the
good people pushed and trusted and pushed.

To those brutal enough to seek direct speech about it with Solon, he
professed to be awaiting only the right opportunity for a brilliant
stroke, and he counselled patience.

To me alone, I think, did he confide his utter lack of inspiration. And
yet, though he seemed to affect entire candor with me, I was, strangely
enough, puzzled by some reserve that still lurked beneath his manner. I
hoped this meant that he was slowly finding a way too good to be told as
yet, even to his best friend.

"Something must be done, Cal," he said, on one occasion, "but you see,
here's the trouble--she's a woman and I'm a man."

"That's a famous old trouble," I remarked.

"And she's _got_ to live, though Wes' Keyts says he isn't so sure of
that--he says I'm lucky enough to have an earthquake made up especially
for this case--and if she lives, she must have ways and means. And then
I have my own troubles. Say, I never knew I was so careless about my
language until she came along. She says only an iron will can correct
it. Did you ever notice how she says 'i--ron' the way people say it when
they're reading poetry out loud? I'll bet, if he had her help, the
author of 'One Hundred Common Errors' could take an _Argus_ and run his
list up to a hundred and fifty in no time. She keeps finding common
errors there that I'll bet this fellow never heard of. You mustn't say
'by the sweat of the brow,' but 'by the perspiration'--perspiration is
refined and sweat is coarse--and to-day I learned for the first time
that it's wrong to say 'Mrs. Henry Peterby of Plum Creek, _nee_ Jennie
McCormick, spent Sunday with her parents of this city.' It looks right
on the face of it, but it seems you mustn't say 'nee' for the first
name--only the last; though it means in French that that was her name
before she was married. I tell you, that woman is a stickler. But what
can I do?"

"Well, what _can_ you do? Far be it from me to suggest that something
must be done."

"Do you know, Cal, sometimes I've thought I'd adopt a