“Ha! ha!” laughed the School-master, satirically.

“Laugh away, but you cannot gainsay my point.  Our prosperity would increase, for we should not be always excavating to get at our pipes; our surface cars with a clear track would gain for us rapid transit, our truck-drivers would not be subjected to the temptations of stopping by the way-side to overturn a coupe, or to run down a pedestrian; our fine equipages would in consequence need fewer repairs; and as for the pedestrians, the beggars, if relegated to themselves, would be forced out of business as would also the street-peddlers.  The men in a hurry would not be delayed by loungers, beggars, and peddlers, and the loungers would derive inestimable benefit from the arrangement in the saving of wear and tear on their clothes and minds by contact with the busy world.”

“It would be delightful,” acceded the School-master, “particularly on Sundays, when they were all loungers.”

“Yes,” replied the Idiot.  “It would be delightful then, especially in summer, when covered with an awning to shield promenaders from the sun.”

Mr. Pedagog sighed, and the Bibliomaniac, wearily declining a second cup of coffee, left the table with the Doctor, earnestly discussing with that worthy gentleman the causes of weakmindedness.

VIII

“There’s a friend of mine up near Riverdale,” said the Idiot, as he unfolded his napkin and let his bill flutter from it to the floor, “who’s tried to make a name for himself in literature.”

“What’s his name?” asked the Bibliomaniac, interested at once.

“That’s just the trouble.  He hasn’t made it yet,” replied the Idiot.  “He hasn’t succeeded in his courtship of the Muse, and beyond himself and a few friends his name is utterly unknown.”

“What work has he tried?” queried the School-master, pouring unadmonished two portions of skimmed milk over his oatmeal.

“A little of everything.  First he wrote a novel.  It had an immense circulation, and he only lost $300 on it.  All of his friends took a copy—­I’ve got one that he gave me—­and I believe two hundred newspapers were fortunate enough to secure the book for review.  His father bought two, and tried to obtain the balance of the edition, but didn’t have enough money.  That was gratifying, but gratification is more apt to deplete than to strengthen a bank account.”

“I had not expected so extraordinarily wise an observation from one so unusually unwise,” said the School-master, coldly.

“Thank you,” returned the Idiot.  “But I think your remark is rather contradictory.  You would naturally expect wise observations from the unusually unwise; that is, if your teaching that the expression ‘unusually unwise’ is but another form of the expression ‘usually wise’ is correct.  But, as I was saying, when the genial instructor of youth interrupted me with his flattery,”