Chapter 11

"Do you believe, Mr. Whitechoker," said the Idiot, taking his place at
the table, and holding his plate up to the light, apparently to see
whether or not it was immaculate, whereat the landlady sniffed
contemptuously--"do you believe that the love of money is the root of
all evil?"

"I have always been of that impression," returned Mr. Whitechoker,
pleasantly. "In fact, I am sure of it," he added. "There is no evil
thing in this world, sir, that cannot be traced back to a point where
greed is found to be its main-spring and the source of its strength."

"Then how do you reconcile this with the scriptural story of the
forbidden fruit? Do you think the apples referred to were figures of
speech, the true import of which was that Adam and Eve had their eyes on
the original surplus?"

"Well, of course, there you begin to--ah--you seem to me to be going
back to the--er--the--ah--"

"Original root of all evil," prompted the Idiot, calmly.

"Precisely," returned Mr. Whitechoker, with a sigh of relief. "Mrs.
Smithers, I think I'll have a dash of hot-water in my coffee this
morning." Then, with a nervous glance towards the Idiot, he added,
addressing the Bibliomaniac, "I think it looks like rain."

"Referring to the coffee, Mr. Whitechoker?" queried the Idiot, not
disposed to let go of his victim quite so easily.

"Ah--I don't quite follow you," replied the Minister, with some
annoyance.

"You said something looked like rain, and I asked you if the thing you
referred to was the coffee, for I was disposed to agree with you," said
the Idiot.

"I am sure," put in Mrs. Smithers, "that a gentleman of Mr.
Whitechoker's refinement would not make any such insinuation, sir. He is
not the man to quarrel with what is set before him."

[Illustration: "HOLDING HIS PLATE UP TO THE LIGHT"]

"I ask your pardon, madam," returned the Idiot, politely. "I hope that I
am not the man to quarrel with my food, either. Indeed, I make it a
rule to avoid unpleasantness of all sorts, particularly with the weak,
under which category we find your coffee. I simply wish to know to what
Mr. Whitechoker refers when he says 'it looks like rain.'"

"I mean, of course," said the Minister, with as much calmness as he
could command--and that was not much--"I mean the day. The day looks as
if it might be rainy."

"Any one with a modicum of brain knows what you meant, Mr. Whitechoker,"
volunteered the School-master.

"Certainly," observed the Idiot, scraping the butter from