eir 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
definite vision. But drivel and drool--very excellent words."

Mr. Thompson took a cigar and seated himself, expectant and happy.

"Boland, what did you come here for, anyhow?" demanded Ferdie
explosively. "Do you play tennis? Do you squire the girls? Do you take
a hand at bridge? Do you fish? Row? Swim? Motor? Golf? Booze? Not you!
Might as well have stayed in New York. Two weeks now you have perched oh
a porch--perched and sat, and nothing more. Dawdle and dream and foozle
over your musty old books. Yah! Highbrow!"

"Little do you wot; but I do more--ah, far more!--than perching on this
porch."

"What do you do? Mope and mowl? If so, mowl for us. I never saw anybody
mowl. Or does one hear people when they mowl?"

"Naturally it wouldn't occur to you--but I think. About things.
Mesopotamia. The spring-time of the world. Ur of the Chaldees.
Melchisedec. Arabia Felix. The Simple Life; and Why Men Leave Home."

"No go, Boland, old socks!" said Thompson. "Our young friend is right,
you know. You are not practical. You are booky. You are a dreamer. Get
into the game. Get busy! Get into business. Get a wad. Get! Found an
estate. Be somebody!"

"As for me, I go for a stroll. You give little Frankie a pain in his
feelings! For a crooked tuppence I'd get somebody to wire me to come
to New York at once.--Uttering these intrepid words the brave youth rose
gracefully and, without a glance at his detractors, sauntered
nonchalantly to the gate.--Unless, of course, you meant it for my good?"
He bent his brows inquiringly.

"We meant it--" said Ferdie, and paused.

"--for your good," said Thompson.

"Oh, well, if you meant it for my good!" said Boland graciously. "All
the same, if I ever decide to 'be somebody,' I'm going to be Francis
Charles Boland, and not a dismal imitation of a copy of some celebr