ey--" said he.

"By Jove!" said the other boy, not heeding him, "and here's another
point: if color is entirely in my brain, why don't that ink-bottle and
this shirt look alike to me? They ought to. And why don't a Martini
cocktail and a cup of coffee taste the same to my tongue?" "Berkeley,"
attempted the tutor, "demonstrates--"

"Do you mean to say," the boy rushed on, "that there is no eternal
quality in all these things which when it meets my perceptions compels
me to see differences?"

The tutor surveyed his notes. "I can discover no such suggestions here
as you are pleased to make" said he. "But your orriginal researches," he
continued most obsequiously, "recall our next subject,--Berkeley and the
Idealists." And he smoothed out his notes.

"Let's see," said the second boy, pondering; "I went to two or three
lectures about that time. Berkeley--Berkeley. Didn't he--oh, yes! he
did. He went the whole hog. Nothing's anywhere except in your ideas. You
think the table's there, but it isn't. There isn't any table."

The first boy slapped his leg and lighted a cigarette. "I remember,"
said he. "Amounts to this: If I were to stop thinking about you, you'd
evaporate."

"Which is balls," observed the second boy, judicially, again in the
slang of his period, "and can be proved so. For you're not always
thinking about me, and I've never evaporated once."

The first boy, after a slight wink at the second, addressed the tutor.
"Supposing you were to happen to forget yourself," said he to that sleek
gentleman, "would you evaporate?"

The tutor turned his little eyes doubtfully upon the tennis boys, but
answered, reciting the language of his notes: "The idealistic theory
does not apply to the thinking ego, but to the world of external
phenomena. The world exists in our conception of it.

"Then," said the second boy, "when a thing is inconceivable?"

"It has no existence," replied the tutor, complacently.

"But a billion dollars is inconceivable," retorted the boy. "No mind can
take in a sum of that size; but it exists."

"Put that down! put that down!" shrieked the other boy. "You've struck
something. If we get Berkeley on the paper, I'll run that in." He wrote
rapidly, and then took a turn around the room, frowning as he walked.
"The actuality of a thing," said he, summing his clever thoughts up,
"is not disproved by its being inconceivable. Ideas alone depend upon
thought for their existence. There! Anybody can ge