"A very delightful philosophy indeed," said Gilbert. "And now that we
have finished our meal, I insist upon your letting me give you a hand
with the washing up. I am eager to test this dish-pantheism of yours!"

"My dear fellow," said Mifflin, laying a restraining hand on his
impetuous guest, "it is a poor philosophy that will not abide denial
now and then. No, no--I did not ask you to spend the evening
with me to wash dishes." And he led the way back to his sitting room.

"When I saw you come in," said Mifflin, "I was afraid you might be
a newspaper man, looking for an interview. A young journalist came
to see us once, with very unhappy results. He wheedled himself into
Mrs. Mifflin's good graces, and ended by putting us both into a book,
called Parnassus on Wheels, which has been rather a trial to me.
In that book he attributes to me a number of shallow and sugary
observations upon bookselling that have been an annoyance to the trade.
I am happy to say, though, that his book had only a trifling sale."

"I have never heard of it," said Gilbert.

"If you are really interested in bookselling you should come
here some evening to a meeting of the Corn Cob Club. Once a month
a number of booksellers gather here and we discuss matters of bookish
concern over corn-cobs and cider. We have all sorts and conditions
of booksellers: one is a fanatic on the subject of libraries.
He thinks that every public library should be dynamited.
Another thinks that moving pictures will destroy the book trade.
What rot! Surely everything that arouses people's minds,
that makes them alert and questioning, increases their appetite
for books."