er cent. of
them would have given ten dollars for a little of that time allowance
they'd been talking to us about for several centuries."

Noah lapsed into a musing silence, and Barnum rose to leave.

"I still wish you'd saved a Discosaurus," he said. "A creature with a
neck twenty-two feet long would have been a gold mine to me. He could
have been trained to stand in the ring, and by stretching out his neck
bite the little boys who sneak in under the tent and occupy seats on the
top row."

"Well, for your sake," said Noah, with a smile, "I'm very sorry; but for
my own, I'm quite satisfied with the general results."

And they all agreed that the patriarch had every reason to be pleased
with himself.

CHAPTER XII: THE HOUSE-BOAT DISAPPEARS

Queen Elizabeth, attended by Ophelia and Xanthippe, was walking along the
river-bank. It was a beautiful autumn day, although, owing to certain
climatic peculiarities of Hades, it seemed more like midsummer. The
mercury in the club thermometer was nervously clicking against the top of
the crystal tube, and poor Cerberus was having all he could do with his
three mouths snapping up the pestiferous little shades of by-gone gnats
that seemed to take an almost unholy pleasure in alighting upon his
various noses and ears.

Ophelia was doing most of the talking.

"I am sure I have never wished to ride one of them," she said,
positively. "In the first place, I do not see where the pleasure of it
comes in, and, in the second, it seems to me as if skirts must be
dangerous. If they should catch in one of the pedals, where would I be?"

"In the hospital shortly, methinks," said Queen Elizabeth.

"Well, I shouldn't wear skirts," snapped Xanthippe. "If a man's wife
can't borrow some of her husband's clothing to reduce her peril to a
minimum, what is the use of having a husband? When I take to the
bicycle, which, in spite of all Socrates can say, I fully intend to do, I
shall have a man's wheel, and I shall wear Socrates' old dress-clothes.
If Hades doesn't like it, Hades may suffer."

"I don't see how Socrates' clothes will help you," observed Ophelia. "He
wore skirts himself, just like all the other old Greeks. His toga would
be quite as apt to catch in the gear as your skirts."

Xanthippe looked puzzled for a moment. It was evident that she had not
thought of the point which Ophelia had brought up--strong-minded ladies
of her kind are apt sometimes to overlook imp