midnight they had, as Billy expressed it, called the turn on Plato.
Tuesday was a second day of concentrated swallowing. Oscar had taken
them through the thought of many centuries. There had been
intermissions for lunch and dinner only; and the weather was exceedingly
hot. The pale-skinned Oscar stood this strain better than the
unaccustomed Bertie and Billy. Their jovial eyes had grown hollow
to-night, although their minds were going gallantly, as you have
probably noticed. Their criticisms, slangy and abrupt, struck the
scholastic Oscar as flippancies which he must indulge, since the pay was
handsome. That these idlers should jump in with doubts and questions
not contained in his sacred notes raised in him feelings betrayed just
once in that remark about "orriginal rresearch."

"Nine--ten--eleven--twelve," went the little timepiece; and Oscar rose.

"Gentlemen," he said, closing the sacred notes, "we have finished the
causal law."

"That's the whole business except the ego racket, isn't it?" said Billy.

"The duality, or multiplicity of the ego remains," Oscar replied.

"Oh, I know its name. It ought to be a soft snap after what we've had."

"Unless it's full of dates and names you've got to know," said Bertie.

"Don't believe it is," Billy answered. "I heard him at it once." (This
meant that Billy had gone to a lecture lately.) "It's all about Who am
I? and How do I do it?" Billy added.