merely withhold my approval from cant, shams, prejudice, formulae,
hypocrisy, and lies. Such is the priceless service of the philosopher."

"Philosopher, my foot!" jeered Ferdie. "You're a brow! A solemn and
sanctimonious brow is bad enough, but a sprightly and godless brow is
positive-itutely the limit!"

"That's absurd, you know," objected Francis Charles. "No man is really
irreligious. Whether we make broad the phylactery or merely our minds, we
are all alike at heart. The first waking thought is invariably, What of
the day? It is a prayer--unconscious, unspoken, and sincere. We are all
sun worshipers; and when we meet we invoke the sky--a good day to you; a
good night to you. It is a highly significant fact that all conversation
begins with the weather. The weather is the most important fact in any
one day, and, therefore, the most important fact in the sum of our days.
We recognize this truth in our greetings; we propitiate the dim and
nameless gods of storm and sky; we reverence their might, their paths
above our knowing. Nor is this all. A fine day; a bad day--with the
careless phrases we assent to such tremendous and inevitable
implications: the helplessness of humanity, the brotherhood of man,
equality, democracy. For what king or kaiser, against the implacable
wind--"

Ferdie rose and pawed at his ears with both hands.

"For the love of the merciful angels! Can the drivel and cut the drool!"

"Those are very good words, Sedgwick," said Mr. Thompson approvingly.
"The word I had on my tongue was--balderdash. But your thought was
happier. Balderdash is a vague and shapeless term. It conjures up no