t he never seemed to
make much headway in getting rid of the assorted mass of newspaper and
magazine clippings that he accumulated with avidity. It was an amazing
collection, and every bit of reading in it, and every picture, referred
to comedians; always comedians.

Lucien Torrance tackled him about it one day. "Why don't you throw all
that truck away?" he said; "it's an awful lot of rubbish."

"Truck! Rubbish!"

"Yes: what do you want with that?"

"You wouldn't tumble to it if I told you," William answered, so mildly
that Lucien, who had expected a stinging rebuke, was almost overcome
with surprise. "It's a secret," William went on, "a dark secret, but
one of these days you'll be paying good money to find out about it."

"Not me."

"Yes, you, Lucien Torrance; you'll be doing it, and paying for your
girl, or your wife, perhaps, to help you find it out."

"I haven't got a girl, and as for a wife, I'm only fifteen----"

"Don't give your age away," interrupted William. "I told you you
wouldn't understand, and I ain't going to waste any of my breath trying
to make you now. Some day you will, unless you turn to stone, like the
fellow at the show last week."

"Oh, you mean 'the petrified man.'"

"You've got the name down fine, Lucien; I wanted to say it, but,
honest, I couldn't. I thought it was stiffified, or something like
that. But don't worry about me and this 'truck' and 'rubbish,' Lucien;
I'm not daffy yet. Let's talk about something else."

"What?"

"Love, for instance."

"Love: what on earth do you want to talk about love for? Are you----"

"Not on your life," interrupted William, hurriedly, "no skirts for
mine. Why I wouldn't worry about any woman in the world but Ma or my
sisters. But I'd like to get at the bottom of this love business
anyway. 'Chuck' Epstein says love is the greatest thing in the world,
but it makes the most trouble. Can you beat that?"

"I don't know anything about it----"

"No, no; I don't figure that you do, Lucien. But when 'Chuck' says it,
he says it to Tommy Watson, and Tommy heaves a sigh big enough to burst
the store to pieces if the door hadn't been open so's the sigh floats
out into the street and blows an old gent's hat off, and----"

"I don't believe it."

"I know you don't, Lucien: that's another of your troubles. Some day,
maybe, your mind'll take in somer the things you're missin' now, and
maybe it never will. But, anyway, Tommy says, 'You're