"He must be an unadorned ass," remarked one of the occupants of the
window seats, in answer to some previous statement.

"He is not," categorically denied a youth of the mattresses. "My dear
Hench, you make no distinctions. I've been talking about the boy's
people and his bringing up and the way he acts, whereupon you fly off
on a tangent and coolly conclude things about the boy himself. It is
not only unkind, but stupid."

Hench laughed. "You amuse me, Jeems," said he; "elucidate."

Jeems let go his knees. The upper part of his body, thus deprived of
support, fell backward on the mattress. He then clasped his hands
behind his head, and stared at the ceiling.

"Listen, ye multitude," he began; "I'm an artist. So are you. I'm also
a philosopher. You are not. Therefore, I'll deign to instruct you. Ben
de Laney has a father and a mother. The father is pompous, conceited,
and a bore. The mother is pompous, conceited, and a bore. The father
uses language of whose absolutely vapid correctness Addison would have
been proud. So does the mother, unless she forgets, in which case the
old man calls her down hard. They, are rich and of a good social
position. The latter worries them, because they have to keep up its
dignity."

"They succeed," interrupted the other brother fervently, "they succeed.
I dined there once. After that I went around to the waxworks to get
cheered up a bit."

"Quite so, Bertie," replied the philosopher; "but you interrupted me
just before I got to my point. The poor old creatures had been married
many years before Bennie came to cheer _them_ up. Naturally, Bennie has
been the whole thing ever since. He is allowed a few privileges, but
always under the best auspices. The rest of the time he stays at home,
is told what or what not a gentleman should do, and is instructed in
the genealogy of the de Laneys."

"The mother is always impressing him with the fact that he is a de
Laney on both sides," interpolated Bert.

"Important, if true, as the newspapers say," remarked the other young
man on the window ledge. "What constitutes a de Laney?"

"Hereditary lack of humour, Beck, my boy. Well, the result is that poor
Bennie is a sort of----" the speaker hesitated for his word.

"'Willy boy,'" suggested Beck, mildly.

"Something of the sort, but not exactly. A 'willy boy' never has ideas.
Bennie has."

"Such as?"

"Well, for one thing, he wants to get away. He doesn't seem quite
content with his job o