"Do you know, I sometimes think--" began the Idiot, opening and shutting
the silver cover of his watch several times with a snap, with the
probable, and not altogether laudable, purpose of calling his landlady's
attention to the fact--of which she was already painfully aware--that
breakfast was fifteen minutes late.
"Do you, really?" interrupted the School-master, looking up from his
book with an air of mock surprise. "I am sure I never should have
suspected it."
"Indeed?" returned the Idiot, undisturbed by this reflection upon his
intellect. "I don't really know whether that is due to your generally
unsuspicious nature, or to your shortcomings as a mind-reader."
"There are some minds," put in the landlady at this point, "that are so
small that it would certainly ruin the eyes to read them."
"I have seen many such," observed the Idiot, suavely. "Even our friend
the Bibliomaniac at times has seemed to me to be very absent-minded. And
that reminds me, Doctor," he continued, addressing himself to the
medical boarder. "What is the cause of absent-mindedness?"
"That," returned the Doctor, ponderously, "is a very large question.
Absent-mindedness, generally speaking, is the result of the projection
of the intellect into surroundings other than those which for want of a
better term I might call the corporeally immediate."
"So I have understood," said the Idiot, approvingly. "And is
absent-mindedness acquired or inherent?"
Here the Idiot appropriated the roll of his neighbor.
"That depends largely upon the case," replied the Doctor, nervously.
"Some are born absent-minded, some achieve absent-mindedness, and some
have absent-mindedness thrust upon them."
"As illustrations of which we might take, for instance, I suppose," said
the Idiot, "the born idiot, the borrower, and the man who is knocked
silly by the pole of a truck on Broadway."
"Precisely," replied the Doctor, glad to get out of the discussion so
easily. He was a very young doctor, and not always sure of himself.
"Or," put in the School-master, "to condense our illustrations, if the
Idiot would kindly go out upon Broadway and encounter the truck, we
should find the three combined in him."
The landlady here laughed quite heartily, and handed the School-master
an extra strong cup of coffee.
"There is a great deal in what you say," said the Idiot, without a
tremor. "There are very few scientific phenomena that cannot be
demonstrated in one way or another by my poor self. It is the exception
always that proves the rule, and in my case you find a consistent
converse exemplification of all three branches of absent-mindedness."
"He talks well," said the Bibliomaniac, _sotto voce_, to the Minister.
"Yes, especially when he gets hold of large words. I really believe he
reads," replied Mr. Whitechoker.
[Illustration: "'WHAT ARE THE FIRST SYMPTOMS OF INSANITY?'"]
"I know he does," said the School-master, who had overheard. "I saw him
reading Webster's Dictionary last night. I have noticed, however, that
generally his vocabulary is largely confined to words that come between
the letters A and F, which shows that as yet he has not dipped very
deeply into the book."
"What are you murmuring about?" queried the Idiot, noting the lowered
tone of those on the other side of the table.
"We were conversing--ahem! about--" began the Minister, with a
despairing glance at the Bibliomaniac.
"Let me say it," interrupted the Bibliomaniac. "You aren't used to
prevarication, and that is what is demanded at this time. We were
talking about--ah--about--er--"
"Tut! tut!" ejaculated the School-master. "We were only saying we
thought the--er--the--that the--"
"What _are_ the first symptoms of insanity, Doctor?" observed the Idiot,
with a look of wonder at the three shuffling boarders opposite him, and
turning anxiously to the physician.
"I wish you wouldn't talk shop," retorted the Doctor, angrily. Insanity
was one of his weak points.
"It's a beastly habit," said the School-master, much relieved at this
turn of the conversation.
"Well, perhaps you are right," returned the Idiot. "People do, as a
rule, prefer to talk of things they know something about, and I don't
blame you, Doctor, for wanting to keep out of a medical discussion. I
only asked my last question because the behavior of the Bibliomaniac and
Mr. Whitechoker and the School-master for some time past has worried me,
and I didn't know but what you might work up a nice little practice
among us. It might not pay, but you'd find the experience valuable, and
I think unique."
"It is a fine thing to have a doctor right in the house," said Mr.
Whitechoker, kindly, fearing that the Doctor's manifest indignation
might get the better of him.
"That," returned the Idiot, "is an assertion, Mr. Whitechoker, that is
both true and untrue. There are times when a physician is an ornament to
a boarding-house; times when he is not. For instance, on Wednesday
morning if it had not been for the surgical skill of our friend here,
our good landlady could never have managed properly to distribute the
late autumn chicken we found upon the menu. Tally one for the
affirmative. On the other hand, I must confess to considerable loss of
appetite when I see the Doctor rolling his bread up into little pills,
or measuring the vinegar he puts on his salad by means of a glass
dropper, and taking the temperature of his coffee with his pocket
thermometer. Nor do I like--and I should not have mentioned it save by
way of illustrating my position in regard to Mr. Whitechoker's
assertion--nor do I like the cold, eager glitter in the Doctor's eyes as
he watches me consuming, with some difficulty, I admit, the cold pastry
we have served up to us on Saturday mornings under the wholly
transparent _alias_ of 'Hot Bread.' I may have very bad taste, but, in
my humble opinion, the man who talks shop is preferable to the one who
suggests it in his eyes. Some more iced potatoes, Mary," he added,
calmly.
[Illustration: "'READING WEBSTER'S DICTIONARY'"]
"Madame," said the Doctor, turning angrily to the landlady, "this is
insufferable. You may make out my bill this morning. I shall have to
seek a home elsewhere."
"Oh, now, Doctor!" began the landlady, in her most pleading tone.
"Jove!" ejaculated the Idiot. "That's a good idea, Doctor. I think I'll
go with you; I'm not altogether satisfied here myself, but to desert so
charming a company as we have here had never occurred to me. Together,
however, we can go forth, and perhaps find happiness. Shall we put on
our hunting togs and chase the fiery, untamed hall-room to the death
this morning, or shall we put it off until some pleasanter day?"
"Put it off," observed the School-master, persuasively. "The Idiot was
only indulging in persiflage, Doctor. That's all. When you have known
him longer you will understand him better. Views are as necessary to him
as sunlight to the flowers; and I truly think that in an asylum he would
prove a delightful companion."
"There, Doctor," said the Idiot; "that's handsome of the School-master.
He couldn't make more of an apology if he tried. I'll forgive him if you
will. What say you?"
And strange to say, the Doctor, in spite of the indignation which still
left a red tinge on his cheek, laughed aloud and was reconciled.
As for the School-master, he wanted to be angry, but he did not feel
that he could afford his wrath, and for the first time in some months
the guests went their several ways at peace with each other and the
world.