"Anything loose in the house?" asked the professor.

"They's a couple bottles beer in the icebox, but _Oh, Ed_!"

VI

Again we chant pregnant phrases from the Bard of Dress: "It is cut to
give the wearer the appearance of perfect physical development. And the
effect produced so improves his form that he unconsciously strives to
attain the appearance which the garment gives him; he expands his chest,
draws in his waist, and stands erect."

A psychologist, that Bard! acutely divining a basic law of this absurd
human nature. In a beggar's rags few men could be more than beggars. In
kingly robes, most men could be kings; could achieve the finished and
fearless behaviour that is said to distinguish royalty.

Bunker Bean, the divinely credulous, now daily arrayed himself in royal
vestures, set a well-fashioned crown upon the brow of him and strode
forth, sceptre in hand. Invisible were these trappings, to be sure; he
was still no marked man in a city street. But at least they were there
to his own truth-lit eyes, and he most truly did "expand his chest, draw
in his waist, and stand erect." Yea, in the full gaze of inhumanly large
policemen would he do these things.

This, indeed, was one of the first prerogatives his royalty claimed. He
discovered that it was not necessary for any but criminals to fear
policemen. It might still be true that an honest man of moderate
physique and tender sensibilities could not pass one without slight
tremors of self-consciousness; but by such they were--a most prodigious
thought--to be regarded as one's paid employees; within the law one
might even greet them pleasantly in passing, and be answered civilly.
Bean was now equal to approaching one and saying, "Good evening,
Officer!" He would sometimes cross a street merely to perform this
apparently barren rite. It stiffened his spine. It helped him to realize
that he had indeed been a king and the sire of kings; that kingly stuff
was in him.

So marked an advance in his spirit was not made in a day, however. It
came only after long dwelling in thought upon his splendid past. And,
too, after he had envisioned the circumstance that he was now a man of
means. The latter was not less difficult of realization than his
kingship. He had thought little about money, save at destitute moments;
had dreamed of riches as a vague, rather pleasant and not important
possibility. But kings were rich; no sooner had his kingship been
proclaimed tha