etter?"

"I did. In fact, there was some considerable beano about it at home.
But never mind about that."

"You didn't come to see me, so I was drawn here. Magnet and tin-tack."

He looked at her little white nose. "I see the point," he said.

"Say some more," she said, "I like to hear you talk, Funnyface. Funny
old ears. Funny old cocoanut with, oh, such a lot of milk in it. You
do think a lot of thinky thoughts, don't you. And you put them all
down in those dear little books of yours."

"Not all," said Luke, "I'm limited in my subjects. Jam, you know.
Pickles. Sardines. That hurts--to be limited. I want to be free. Here,
I am imprisoned. I am buried alive. Plunged, still teething, in the
brougham."

"Still teething? I knew you were young at heart. Still, at the age of
thirty-two----"

"I had intended to say that I was plunged, still breathing, in the
tomb. I do get carried away so. Sometimes I form plans. I think I will
leave this business and write my biography. It would be a record, not
of the facts that are, but of the facts as I should like them to be."

"Brilliant," said Jona.

"I don't know," said Luke, wagging his ears, "I sometimes doubt
whether I am sufficiently in touch with real life. I must consult
somebody about it."

"Consult me. No, not now. Show me the first of the little books that
you ever wrote."

He handed her the little lilac-bound copy of "The Romance of a
Raspberry." She put it reverently to her lips, patted it gently, and
laid it down again.

"Do you talk it over with Mabel? Isn't Mabel tremendously proud of
it?"

"She is tremendously proud, but she has great self-restraint." He
recalled the end of the perfect day. "As a general rule," he added,
"when nothing happens to irritate her."

"Does she love you very much?"

"I don't remember her mentioning anything of the kind recently. But
it's you I want to talk about, Jona. Tell me about your life."

"I don't live. I'm marking time. You throw a brick into the
stream----"

"No," said Luke, "not a brick. I sometimes play boats."

"I was going to say," Jona continued, "that the brick remains
motionless while the stream goes past it."

"But cannot we apply the principle of relativity here?" he asked. "May
it not be that the stream stands still while the brick goes past it?
It would appear so to the brick."

"That's one of your dinky, thinky thoughts, isn't it?"

A sound of uproar, of crashes and loud voices, came up from th