be made in two or three hours."

"Ah--what was that?" said the Bibliomaniac. "I don't exactly follow
you."

"One extra screw, you say, has saved two days?"

"Yes."

"Then two extra screws would save four days, three would save six days,
and five extra screws would send the boat over in approximately no
time," said the Idiot. "So, if it takes a man two hours to succumb to
sea-sickness, a boat going over in less than that time would eliminate
sea-sickness; more people would go; boats could run every hour, and Mr.
Whitechoker could have a European trip every week without deserting his
congregation."

"Inestimable boon!" cried Mr. Whitechoker, with a laugh.

"Wouldn't it be!" said the Idiot. "Unless I change my mind, I think I
shall stay in this country until this style of greyhound is perfected.
Then, gentlemen, I shall tear myself away from you, and seek knowledge
in foreign pastures."

"Well, I am sure," said Mr. Pedagog--"I am sure that we all hope you
will change your mind."

"Then you want me to go abroad?" said the Idiot.

"No," said Mr. Pedagog. "No--not so much that as that we feel if you
were to change your mind the change could not fail to be for the better.
A mind like yours ought to be changed."

"Well, I don't know," said the Idiot. "I suppose it would be a good
thing if I broke it up into smaller denominations, but I've had it so
long that I have become attached to it; but there is one thing about it,
there is plenty of it, so that in case any of you gentlemen find your
own insufficient I shall be only too happy to give you a piece of it
without charge. Meanwhile, if Mrs. Pedagog will kindly let me have my
bill for last week, I'll be obliged."

"It won't be ready until to-morrow, Mr. Idiot," said the landlady, in
surprise.

"I'm sorry," said the Idiot, rising. "My scribbling-paper has run out. I
wanted to put in this morning writing a poem on the back of it."

"A poem? What about?" said Mr. Pedagog, with an irritating chuckle.

"It was to be a triolet on Omniscience," said the Idiot. "And, strange
to say, sir, you were to be the hero, if by any possibility I could
squeeze you into a French form."

IV

The Incorporation of the Idiot

"How is business these days, Mr. Idiot?" asked the Poet, as the one
addressed laid down the morning paper with a careworn expression on his
face. "Good, I hope?"

"Fair, only," replied the Idiot. "My honored employer was quite blue
about things ye