“I’d like to have this settled, sir,” she said, with some asperity.

“Certainly, my dear madame,” replied the Idiot, unabashed—­“certainly.  Can you change a check for a hundred?”

No, Mrs. Smithers could not.

“Then I shall have to put off paying the account until this evening,” said the Idiot.  “But,” he added, with a glance at the amount of the bill, “are you related to Governor McKinley, Mrs. Smithers?”

“I am not,” she returned, sharply.  “My mother was a Partington.”

“I only asked,” said the Idiot, apologetically, “because I am very much interested in the subject of heredity, and you may not know it, but you and he have each a marked tendency towards high-tariff bills.”

And before Mrs. Smithers could think of anything to say, the Idiot was on his way down town to help his employer lose money on Wall Street.

II

“Do you know, I sometimes think—­” began the Idiot, opening and shutting the silver cover of his watch several times with a snap, with the probable, and not altogether laudable, purpose of calling his landlady’s attention to the fact—­of which she was already painfully aware—­that breakfast was fifteen minutes late.

“Do you, really?” interrupted the School-master, looking up from his book with an air of mock surprise.  “I am sure I never should have suspected it.”

“Indeed?” returned the Idiot, undisturbed by this reflection upon his intellect.  “I don’t really know whether that is due to your generally unsuspicious nature, or to your shortcomings as a mind-reader.”

“There are some minds,” put in the landlady at this point, “that are so small that it would certainly ruin the eyes to read them.”

“I have seen many such,” observed the Idiot, suavely.  “Even our friend the Bibliomaniac at times has seemed to me to be very absent-minded.  And that reminds me, Doctor,” he continued, addressing himself to the medical boarder.  “What is the cause of absent-mindedness?”

“That,” returned the Doctor, ponderously, “is a very large question.  Absent-mindedness, generally speaking, is the result of the projection of the intellect into surroundings other than those which for want of a better term I might call the corporeally immediate.”

“So I have understood,” said the Idiot, approvingly.  “And is absent-mindedness acquired or inherent?”

Here the Idiot appropriated the roll of his neighbor.

“That depends largely upon the case,” replied the Doctor, nervously.  “Some are born absent-minded, some achieve absent-mindedness, and some have absent-mindedness thrust upon them.”

“As illustrations of which we might take, for instance, I suppose,” said the Idiot, “the born idiot, the borrower, and the man who is knocked silly by the pole of a truck on Broadway.”

“Precisely,” replied the Doctor, glad to get out of the discussion so easily.  He was a very young doctor, and not always sure of himself.