single misstep, and we shall not make
the misstep. Can you still claim that science and the future have nothing
to do with each other?"

"You are talking of matters purely temporal," said Mr. Whitechoker. "I
have reference to our spiritual future."

"And the two," observed the Idiot, "are so closely allied that we cannot
separate them. The proverb about looking after the pennies and letting
the pounds take care of themselves applies here. I believe that if I take
care of my temporal future--which, by-the-way, does not exist--my
spiritual future will take care of itself; and if science places the
hereafter before us--and you admit that even now it is before us--all we
have to do is to take advantage of our opportunities, and mend our lives
accordingly."

"But if science shows you what is to come," said the School-Master, "it
must show your fate with perfect accuracy, or it ceases to be science, in
which event your entertaining notions as to reform and so on are entirely
fallacious."

"Not at all," said the Idiot. "We are approaching the time when science,
which is much more liberal than any other branch of knowledge, will
sacrifice even truth itself for the good of mankind."

"You ought to start a paradox company," suggested the Doctor.

"Either that or make himself the nucleus of an insane asylum," observed
the School-Master, viciously. "I never knew a man with such maniacal
views as those we have heard this morning."

"There is a great deal, Mr. Pedagog, that you have never known," returned
the Idiot. "Stick by me, and you'll die with a mind richly stored."

Whereat the School-Master left the table with such manifest impatience
that Mr. Whitechoker was sorry he had started the conversation.

The genial gentleman who occasionally imbibed and the Idiot withdrew to
the latter's room, where the former observed:

"What are you driving at, anyhow? Where did you get those crazy ideas?"

"I ate a Welsh-rarebit last night, and dreamed 'em," returned the Idiot.

"I thought as much," said his companion. "What deuced fine things dreams
are, anyhow!"

IX

Breakfast was very nearly over, and it was of such exceptionally good
quality that very few remarks had been made. Finally the ball was set
rolling by the Lawyer.

"How many packs of cigarettes do you smoke a day?" he asked, as the Idiot
took one from his pocket and placed it at the side of his coffee-cup.

"Never more than forty-six," said the Idiot. "