"Yes. He writes advertisements on salary," returned the Idiot. "He is
writing now a recommendation of tooth-powder in Indian dialect."

"Why didn't he try writing an epic?" said the Bibliomaniac.

[Illustration: "'HE GAVE UP JOKES'"]

"Because," replied the Idiot, "the one aim of his life has been to be
original, and he couldn't reconcile that with epic poetry."

At which remark the landlady stooped over, and recovering the Idiot's
bill from under the table, called the maid, and ostentatiously requested
her to hand it to the Idiot. He, taking a cigarette from his pocket,
thanked the maid for the attention, and rolling the slip into a taper,
thoughtfully stuck one end of it into the alcohol light under the
coffee-pot, and lighting the cigarette with it, walked nonchalantly from
the room.




IX


"I've just been reading a book," began the Idiot.

"I thought you looked rather pale," said the School-master.

"Yes," returned the Idiot, cheerfully, "it made me feel pale. It was