lf
should be paid to me as my commission for letting him into a good
thing."

"You certainly have good business sense," put in the Bibliomaniac. "I
wish I had had when I was collecting rare editions."

"Collecting rare books and a good business sense seldom go together, I
fancy," said the Idiot. "I began collecting books once, but I gave it up
and took to collecting coins. I chose my coin and devoted my time to
getting in that variety alone, and it has paid me."

"I don't exactly gather your meaning," said Mr. Whitechoker. "You chose
your coin?"

"Precisely. I said, 'Here! Most coin collectors spend their time looking
for one or two rare coins, for which, when they are found, they pay
fabulous prices. The result is oftentimes penury. I, on the other hand,
will look for coins of a common sort which do not command fabulous
prices.' So I chose United States five-dollar gold pieces, irrespective
of dates, for my collection, and the result is moderate affluence. I
have between sixty and a hundred of them at my savings-bank, and when I
have found it necessary to realize on them I have not experienced the
slightest difficulty in forcing them back into circulation at cost."

"You are a wise Idiot," said the Bibliomaniac, settling back in his
chair in a disgusted, tired sort of way. He had expected some sympathy
from the Idiot as a fellow-collector, even though their aims were
different. It is always difficult for a man whose ten-thousand-dollar
library has brought six hundred dollars in the auction-room to find,
even in the ranks of collectors, one who understands his woes and helps
him bear the burden thereof by expressions of confidence in his sanity.

"Then you believe in travel, do you?" asked the Doctor.

"I believe there is nothing broadens the mind so much," returned the
Idiot.

"But do you believe it will develop a mind where there isn't one?" asked
the School-master, unpleasantly. "Or, to put it more favorably, don't
you think there would be danger in taking the germ of a mind in a small
head and broadening it until it runs the risk of finding itself confined
to cramped quarters?"

"That is a question for a physician to answer," said the Idiot. "But, if
I were you, I wouldn't travel if I thought there was any such danger."

"_Tu quoque_," retorted the School-master, "is _not_ true repartee."

"I shall have to take your word for that," returned the Idiot, "since I
have not a Latin dictionary with me, and al