“We seem to have a violent antipathy to thin ice, Davy, and skate away from it as soon as it begins to crack a little beneath our feet.”

“Yes,” said his friend, shrugging his shoulders, “it is not pleasant to fall through the crust of friendship.  There is a sub-element in every life a too sudden plunge into which might result in a fatal chill.  We had all better keep on the surface.  I am frank enough to say that the less any one knows about my past, the better I shall be satisfied.”

“I wish that I could keep my own self from invading that realm as easily as I can keep others!  Why is it that no man has ever yet been able to ‘let the dead past bury its dead’?  It seems a reasonable demand.”

“He is a poor sexton—­this old man, the Past.  I have watched him at his work, and he is powerless to dig his own grave, however many others he may have excavated!”

“The Present seems as helpless as the Past.  I wonder if the future will heap enough new events over old ones to hide them from view?”

“Let a shadow bury the sun!  Let a wave bury the sea,” answered David bitterly.

“I am afraid you take life too seriously,” said Mantel, on whose face appeared that inexplicable smile behind which he constantly retired.  “For, after all, life is nothing but a jest—­a grim one, to be sure, but still a jest.  The great host who entertains us in the banqueting hall of the universe must have his fun as well as any one, and we must laugh at his jokes even when they are at our expense.  This is the least that guests can do.”

“What, even when they writhe with pain?”

“Why not?  We all have our fun!  You used to scare timid little girls with jack-lanterns, put duck eggs under the old hen, and tie tin cans to dogs’ tails.  Where did you learn these tricks, if not from the great Trickmaster himself?  Humor is hereditary!  We get it from a divine original, and the Archetypal Joker must have His fun.  It is better to take His horseplay in good part.  We cannot stop Him, and we may as well laugh at what amuses Him.  There is just as much fun in it as a fellow is able to see!”

“Then there is none, for I cannot see any.  But if you get the comfort you seem to out of this philosophy of yours, I envy you.  What do you call it?  There ought to be a name for a metaphysic which seems to comprehend all the complex phenomena of life in one single, simple, principle of humor!”

“How would ‘will-o’-the-wispism’ do?  There is a sort of elusive element in life, you see.  Nature has no goal, yet leads us along the pathway by shows, enchantments and promises.  She pays us in checks which she never cashes.  She holds out a glittering prize, persuades us that it is worth any sacrifice, and when we make it, the bubble bursts, the sword descends, and you hear a low chuckle.”

“You have described her method well enough, but how is it that you get your fun out of your knowledge?”