Chapter 5

"Hullo!" said the Idiot, as he began his breakfast. "This isn't Friday
morning, is it? I thought it was Tuesday."

"So it is Tuesday," put in the School-Master.

"Then this fish is a little extra treat, is it?" observed the Idiot,
turning with a smile to the landlady.

"Fish? That isn't fish, sir," returned the good lady. "That is liver."

"Oh, is it?" said the Idiot, apologetically. "Excuse me, my dear Mrs.
Pedagog. I thought from its resistance that it was fried sole. Have you
a hatchet handy?" he added, turning to the maid.

"My piece is tender enough. I can't see what you want," said the
School-Master, coldly.

"I'd like your piece," replied the Idiot, suavely. "That is, if it really
is tender enough."

"Don't pay any attention to him, my dear," said the School-Master to the
landlady, whose ire was so very much aroused that she was about to make
known her sentiments on certain subjects.

"No, Mrs. Pedagog," said the Idiot, "don't pay any attention to me, I
beg of you. Anything that could add to the jealousy of Mr. Pedagog would
redound to the discomfort of all of us. Besides, I really do not object
to the liver. I need not eat it. And as for staying my appetite, I always
stop on my way down-town after breakfast for a bite or two anyhow."

There was silence for a moment.

"I wonder why it is," began the Idiot, after tasting his coffee--"I
wonder why it is Friday is fish-day all over the world, anyhow? Do you
happen to be learned enough in piscatorial science to enlighten me on
that point, Doctor?"

"No," returned the physician, gruffly. "I've never looked into the
matter."

"I guess it's because Friday is an unlucky day," said the Idiot. "Just
think of all the unlucky things that may happen before and after eating
fish, as well as during the process. In the first place, before eating,
you go off and fish all day, and have no luck--don't catch a thing. You
fall in the water perhaps, and lose your watch, or your fish-hook
catches in your coat-tails, with the result that you come near casting
yourself instead of the fly into the brook or the pond, as the case may
be. Perhaps the hook doesn't stop with the coat-tails, but goes on in,
and catches you. That's awfully unlucky, especially when the hook is made
of unusually barby barbed wire.

[Illustration: "YOU FISH ALL DAY, AND HAVE NO LUCK"]

"Then, again, you may go fishing on somebody else's preserves, and get
arrested, and sent to jail overnight, and hauled up the next morning, and
have to