Exchange," put in the
Bibliomaniac, "while thanking you just the same for the chance."

"You can put me down for one share, to be paid for in poetry," said the
Poet, with a wink at the Idiot.

"You'll never make good," said the Idiot, slyly.

"And I," said the Genial Old Gentleman who occasionally imbibes, "shall
be most happy to take five shares to be paid for in advice and
high-balls. Moreover, if your company needs good-will to establish its
enterprise, you may count upon me for unlimited credit."

"Oh, as for that," said the Idiot, "I have plenty of good-will. Even
Mr. Pedagog supplies me with more of it than I deserve, though by no
means with all that I desire."

"That good-will is yours as an individual, Mr. Idiot," returned the
School-master. "As a corporation, however, I cannot permit you to trade
upon me even for that. Your value is, in my eyes, entirely too
fluctuating."

"And it is in the fluctuating stock that the great fortunes are made,
Mr. Pedagog," said the Idiot. "As an individual I appreciate your
good-will. As a corporation I am soulless, without emotions, and so
cherish no disappointments over your refusal. I think if the scheme goes
through it will be successful, and I fully expect to see the day when
Idiot Preferred will be selling as high, if not higher, than Steel, and
leaving utterly behind any other industrial that ever was known, copper
or rope."

"If, like the railways, you could issue betterment bonds you might do
very well," said the Doctor. "I think ten million dollars spent in
bettering you might bring you up to par."

"Or a consolidated first-mortgage bond," remarked the Bibliomaniac.
"Consolidate the Idiot with a man like Chamberlain or the German
Emperor, and issue a five-million-dollar mortgage on the result, and you
might find people who'd take those bonds at seventy-five."

"You might if they were a dollar bond printed on cartridge-paper," said
Mr. Pedagog. "Then purchasers could paper their walls with them."

"Rail on," said the Idiot. "I can stand it. When I begin paying
quarterly dividends at a ten-per-cent. rate you'll wish you had come
in."

"I don't know about that," said Mr. Pedagog. "It would entirely
depend."

"On what?" queried the Idiot, unwarily.

"On whether that ten per cent. was declared upon your own estimate of
your value or upon ours. On yours it would be fabulous; on ours--oh,
well, what is the use of saying anything more about it. We are not goin