Part 7 (1/2)
”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. ”Why? Do you think of starting a cigarette stand?”
”Not at all,” said Mr. Brief. ”I was only wondering what chance you had to live to maturity, that's all. Your maturity period will be in about eight hundred and sixty years from now, the way I calculate, and it seemed to me that, judging from the number of cigarettes you smoke, you were not likely to last through more than two or three of those years.”
”Oh, I expect to live longer than that,” said the Idiot. ”I think I'm good for at least four years. Don't you, Doctor?”
”I decline to have anything to say about your case,” retorted the Doctor, whose feeling towards the Idiot was not surpa.s.singly affectionate.
”In that event I shall probably live five years more,” said the Idiot.
The Doctor's lip curled, but he remained silent.
”You'll live,” put in Mr. Pedagog, with a chuckle. ”The good die young.”
”How did you happen to keep alive all this time then, Mr. Pedagog?” asked the Idiot.
”I have always eschewed tobacco in every form, for one thing,” said Mr.
Pedagog.
”I am surprised,” put in the Idiot. ”That's really a bad habit, and I marvel greatly that you should have done it.”
The School-Master frowned, and looked at the Idiot over the rims of his gla.s.ses, as was his wont when he was intent upon getting explanations.
”Done what?” he asked, severely.
”Chewed tobacco,” replied the Idiot. ”You just said that one of the things that has kept you lingering in this vale of tears was that you have always chewed tobacco. I never did that, and I never shall do it, because I deem it a detestable diversion.”