a drive through the Park, or
a walk, all he and his wife need to do is to take a telescope and follow
some little sylvan path with their eyes. Then, as for expense, he finds
that he saves money by means of a co-operative scheme. For instance, if
he wants shad for dinner, and he and his wife cannot eat a whole one, he
goes shares on the shad and its cost with his neighbors above and below."

"Yes, and his neighbors above and below borrow tea and eggs and butter
and ice and other things whenever they run short, so that in that way he
loses all he saves," said Mr. Pedagog, resolved not to give in.

"He does if he isn't smart," said the Idiot. "I thought of that myself,
and asked him about it, and he told me that he kept account of all that,
and always made it a point after some neighbor had borrowed two pounds
of butter from him to send in before the week was over and borrow three
pounds of butter from the neighbor. So far his books show that he is
sixteen pounds of butter, seven pounds of tea, one bottle of vanilla
extract, and a ton of ice ahead of the whole house. He is six eggs and
a box of matches behind in his egg and match account, but under the
circumstances I think he can afford it."

"But," said Mrs. Pedagog, anxious to know the worst, "why--er--why are
you so interested?"

"Well," said the Idiot, slowly, "I--er--I am contemplating a change, Mrs.
Pedagog--a change that would fill me--I say it sincerely, too--with
regret if--" The Idiot paused a minute, and his eye swept fondly about
the table. His voice was getting a little husky too, Mr. Whitechoker
noticed. "It would fill me with regret, I say, if it were not that
in taking up house-keeping I am--I am to have the assistance of a
better-half."

"What??" cried the Bibliomaniac. "You? You are going to be--to be
married?"

"Why not?" said the Idiot. "Imitation is the sincerest flattery. Mr.
Pedagog marries, and I am going to flatter him as sincerely as I can by
following in his footsteps."

"May I--may we ask to whom?" asked Mrs. Pedagog, softly.

"Certainly," said the Idiot. "To Mr. Barlow's daughter. Mr. Barlow is--or
was--my employer."

"Was? Is he not now? Are you going out of business?" asked Mr. Pedagog.

"No; but, you see, when I went to see Mr. Barlow in the matter, he told
me that he liked me very much, and he had no doubt I would make a good
husband for his daughter, but, after all, he added that I was nothing
but a confidential clerk on a sma