The School-master, who, by-the-way, was suspected by Mrs. Smithers of
having intentions, and who for that reason occupied the chair nearest
the lady's heart, folded up the morning paper, and placing it under him
so that no one else could get it, observed, quite genially for him, "It
was very wet yesterday."

"I didn't find it so," observed a young man seated half-way down the
table, who was by common consent called the Idiot, because of his
"views." "In fact, I was very dry. Curious thing, I'm always dry on
rainy days. I am one of the kind of men who know that it is the part of
wisdom to stay in when it rains, or to carry an umbrella when it is not
possible to stay at home, or, having no home, like ourselves, to remain
cooped up in stalls, or stalled up in coops, as you may prefer."

"You carried an umbrella, then?" queried the landlady, ignoring the
Idiot's shaft at the size of her "elegant and airy apartments" with an
ease born of experience.

"Yes, madame," returned the Idiot, quite unconscious of what was coming.

"Whose?" queried the lady, a sarcastic smile playing about her lips.

"That I cannot say, Mrs. Smithers," replied the Idiot, serenely, "but it
is the one you usually carry."

"Your insinuation, sir," said the School-master, coming to the
landlady's rescue, "is an unworthy one. The umbrella in question is
mine. It has been in my possession for five years."