"I got the idea from a friend of mine in Washington Square. She got up a
little cellar café built around Alice. Alice in Wonderland, you know,
and the Looking Glass. Though I don't suppose a learned and serious
person like you would ever have read such nonsense."

"It happened to be Friday and there wasn't a hippopotamus in the house,"
I murmured.

"Oh," said Barbran, brightening. "Well, I thought if she could do it
with Alice, I could do it with Harvey Wheelwright."

"In the name of Hatta and the March Hare, _why_?"

"Because, for every one person who reads Alice nowadays, ten read the
author of 'Reborn Through Righteousness' and 'Called by the Cause.'
Isn't it so?"

"Mathematically unimpeachable."

"Therefore I ought to get ten times as many people as the other place.
Don't you think so?" she inquired wistfully.

Who am I to withhold a comforting fallacy from a hopeful soul.
"Undoubtedly," I agreed. "But do you love him?"

"Who?" said Barbran, with a start. The faint pink color ran up her
cheeks.

"Harvey Wheelwright, of course. Whom did you think I meant?"