sick in one of the rooms," said the Doctor, "and
needed a change of air, you could have a tower over each, I suppose, so
that the room could be elevated high enough to secure the different
quality in the ether?"

"Undoubtedly," said the Idiot. "Although that would add materially to the
expense. A scarlet-fever patient, however, in a hotel like that could
very easily be isolated from the rest of the house by the maintenance of
what might be called the hospital floor."

"Superb!" said the Doctor. "I wonder you haven't spoken to some
architectural friend about it."

"I have," said the Idiot. "You must remember that young fellow with a
black mustache I had here to dinner last Saturday night."

"Yes, I remember him," said the Doctor. "Is he an architect?"

"He is--and a good one. He can take a brown-stone dwelling and turn it
into a colonial mansion with a pot of yellow paint. He's a wonder. I
submitted the idea to him."

"And what was his verdict?"

"I don't like to say," said the Idiot, blushing a little.

"Ha! ha!" laughed Mr. Pedagog. "I shouldn't think you would like to say.
I guess we know what he said."

"I doubt it," said the Idiot; "but if you guess right, I'll tell you."

"He said you had better go and live in a lunatic asylum," said Mr.
Pedagog, with a chuckle.

"Not he," returned the Idiot, nibbling at his biscuit. "On the contrary.
He advised me to stop living in one. He said contact with the rest of you
was affecting my brain."

This time Mr. Pedagog did not laugh, but mistaking his coffee-cup for a
piece of toast, bit a small section out of its rim; and in the midst of
Mrs. Pedagog's expostulation, which followed the School-Master's careless
error, the Idiot and the Genial Old Gentleman departed, with smiles on
their faces which were almost visible at the back of their respective
necks.

[Illustration: THEY DEPARTED]

V

"Hullo!" said the Idiot, as he began his breakfast. "This isn't Friday
morning, is it? I thought it was Tuesday."

"So it is Tuesday," put in the School-Master.

"Then this fish is a little extra treat, is it?" observed the Idiot,
turning with a smile to the landlady.

"Fish? That isn't fish, sir," returned the good lady. "That is liver."

"Oh, is it?" said the Idiot, apologetically. "Excuse me, my dear Mrs.
Pedagog. I thought from its resistance that it was fried sole. Have you
a hatchet handy?" he added, turning to the maid.

"My piece is tender enough. I ca