Chapter 2

"Let's write a book," suggested the Idiot, as he took his place at the
board and unfolded his napkin.

"What about?" asked the Doctor, with a smile at the idea of the Idiot's
thinking of embarking on literary pursuits.

"About four hundred pages long," said the Idiot. "I feel inspired."

"You are inspired," said the School-Master. "In your way you are a
genius. I really never heard of such a variegated Idiot as you are in all
my experience, and that means a great deal, I can tell you, for in the
course of my career as an instructor of youth I have encountered many
idiots."

"Were they idiots before or after having drank at the fount of your
learning?" asked the Idiot, placidly.

Mr. Pedagog glared, and the Idiot was apparently satisfied. To make Mr.
Pedagog glare appeared to be one of the chiefest of his ambitions.

"You will kindly remember, Mr. Idiot," said Mrs. Pedagog at this point,
"that Mr. Pedagog is my husband, and such insinuations at my table are
distinctly out of place."

"I ask your pardon, Mrs. Pedagog," rejoined the offender, meekly.
"Nevertheless, as apart from the question in hand as to whether Mr.
Pedagog inspires idiocy or not, I should like to get the views of this
gathering on the point you make regarding the table. _Is_ this your
table? Is it not rather the table of those who sit about it to regale
their inner man with the good things under which I remember once or twice
in my life to have heard it groan? To my mind, the latter is the truth.
It is _our_ table, because we buy it, and I am forced to believe that
some of us pay for it. I am prepared to admit that if Mr. Brief, for
instance, is delinquent in his weekly payments, his interest in the table
reverts to you until he shall have liquidated, and he is not privileged
to say a word that you do not approve of; but I, for instance, who since
January 1st have been compelled to pay in advance, am at least sole
lessee, and for the time being proprietor of the portion for which I have
paid. You have sold it to me. I have entered into possession, and while
in possession, as a matter of right and not on sufferance, haven't I the
privilege of freedom of speech?"

"You certainly exercise the privilege whether you have it or not,"
snapped Mr. Pedagog.

"Well, I believe in exercise," said the Idiot. "Exercise brings strength,
and if exercising the privilege is going to strengthen it, exercise it I
shall, if I have to hire a gymnasium for the purpose. But to return to
Mrs. Pedagog's remark. It brings up another question that has more or
less interested me. Because Mrs. Smithers