Culch. (with his superior smile).  My dear PODBURY, you can hardly expect to master the Spencerian phraseology and habit of thought without at least some preliminary mental discipline!

Podb. (nettled).  Oh—­but you find him plain-sailing enough, I suppose?

Culch. I have certainly not encountered any insuperable difficulties in his works as yet.

Podb. Well, I’ll just trouble you to explain this—­wait a bit. (Opens volume again.) Ah, here we are—­“And these illusive and primordial cognitions, or pseud-ideas, are homogeneous entities which may be differentiated objectively or subjectively, according as they are presented as Noumenon or Phenomenon.  Or, in other words, they are only cognoscible as a colligation of incongruous coalescences.”  Now then—­are you going to tell me you can make head or tail of all that?

Culch. (perceiving that Miss P. is awaiting his reply in manifest suspense).  It’s simple enough, my dear fellow, only I can’t expect you to grasp it.  It is merely a profound truth stated with masterly precision.

Podb. Oh, is that all, my dear fellow? (He flings up his heels in an ecstasy.) I knew I’d have you!  Why, I made that up myself as I went along, and if you understand it, it’s a jolly sight more than I do! [He roars with laughter.

Miss P. (behind her handkerchief).  Mr. CULCHARD has evidently gone through the—­the “preliminary mental discipline.”

Culch. (scarlet and sulky).  Of course, if Mr. PODBURY descends to childishness of that sort, I can’t pretend to—­

[Illustration:  Podbury grappling with the Epitome of Spencer.]

Podb. (wiping his eyes).  But you did pretend, old chap.  You said it was “profound truth” and “masterly precision”!  I’ve got more profound truth where that came from.  I say, I shall set up as an intellectual Johnny after this, and get you to write an Epitome of me.  I think I pulled your leg that time, eh?

Culch. (biting his lip).  When you have extracted sufficient entertainment from that very small joke, you will perhaps allow Miss PRENDERGAST to sit down and begin her sketch.  You may not be aware that you’ve taken her place.

[He withdraws majestically to the parapet, while PODBURY makes way for Miss P. with apologies.

Podb. (as he leans over seat while she sketches).  I wish your brother BOB had been here—­he would have enjoyed that!

Miss P. It was really too bad of you, though.  Poor Mr. CULCHARD!

Podb. He shouldn’t try to make me out a bigger duffer than I am, then.  But I say, you don’t really think it was too bad?  Ah, you’re laughing—­you don’t!