“Pedagog has been good-natured enough for an engaged man for nearly a week now,” he whispered to the Idiot, who had asked him what he supposed was up, “and I have a half idea that Mrs. S. has at last brought him to the point of proposing.”

“It’s the other way, I imagine,” returned the Idiot.

“You don’t really think she has rejected him, do you?” queried the genial old gentleman.

“Oh no; not by a great deal.  I mean that I think it very likely that he has brought her to the point.  This is leap-year, you know,” said the Idiot.

“Well, if I were a betting man, which I haven’t been since night before last, I’d lay you a wager that they’re engaged,” said the old gentleman.

“I’m glad you’ve given up betting,” rejoined the Idiot, “because I’m sure I’d take the bet if you offered it—­and then I believe I’d lose.”

“We are to have Philadelphia spring chickens this morning, gentlemen,” said Mrs. Smithers, beaming upon all at the table.  “It’s a special treat.”

“Which we all appreciate, my dear Mrs. Smithers,” observed the Idiot, with a courteous bow to his landlady.  “And, by the way, why is it that Philadelphia spring chickens do not appear until autumn, do you suppose?  Is it because Philadelphia spring doesn’t come around until it is autumn everywhere else?”

“No, I think not,” said the Doctor.  “I think it is because Philadelphia spring chickens are not sufficiently hardened to be able to stand the strain of exportation much before September, or else Philadelphia people do not get so sated with such delicacies as to permit any of the crop to go into other than Philadelphia markets before that period.  For my part, I simply love them.”

[Illustration:  “‘MRS. S. BROUGHT HIM TO THE POINT OF PROPOSING’”]

“So do I,” said the Idiot; “and if Mrs. Smithers will pardon me for expressing a preference for any especial part of the piece de resistance, I will state to her that if, in helping me, she will give me two drumsticks, a pair of second joints, and plenty of the white meat, I shall be very happy.”

“You ought to have said so yesterday,” said the School-master, with a surprisingly genial laugh.  “Then Mrs. Smithers could have prepared an individual chicken for you.”

“That would be too much,” returned the Idiot, “and I should really hesitate to eat too much spring chicken.  I never did it in my life, and don’t know what the effect would be.  Would it be harmful, Doctor?”

“I really do not know how it would be,” answered the Doctor.  “In all my wide experience I have never found a case of the kind.”

“It’s very rarely that one gets too much spring chicken,” said Mr. Whitechoker.  “I haven’t had any experience with patients, as my friend the Doctor has; but I have lived in many boarding-houses, and I have never yet known of any one even getting enough.”

“Well, perhaps we shall have all we want this morning,” said Mrs. Smithers.  “I hope so, at any rate, for I wish this day to be a memorable one in our house.  Mr. Pedagog has something to tell you.  John, will you announce it now?”