d
full dress."

"The Idiot is right," said the Bibliomaniac. "It would not be a very
good thing for the world if every day were Sunday. Wash-day is a
necessity of life. I am willing to admit this, in the face of the fact
that wash-day meals are invariably atrocious. Contracts would be void,
as a rule, because Sunday is a _dies non_."

"A what?" asked the Idiot.

"A non-existent day in a business sense," put in the School-master.

"Of course," said the landlady, scornfully. "Any person who knows
anything knows that."

"Then, madame," returned the Idiot, rising from his chair, and putting a
handful of sweet crackers in his pocket--"then I must put in a claim for
$104 from you, having been charged, at the rate of one dollar a day for
104 _dies nons_ in the two years I have been with you."

"Indeed!" returned the lady, sharply. "Very well. And I shall put in a
counterclaim for the lunches you carry away from breakfast every morning
in your pockets."

"In that event we'll call it off, madame," returned the Idiot, as with a
courtly bow and a pleasant smile he left the room.

"Well, I call him 'off,'" was all the landlady could say, as the other
guests took their departure.

And of course the School-master agreed with her.

VII

"Our streets appear to be as far from perfect as ever," said the
Bibliomaniac with a sigh, as he looked out through the window at the
great pools of water that gathered in the basins made by the sinking of
the Belgian blocks. "We'd better go back to the cowpaths of our
fathers."

"There is a great deal in what you say," observed the School-master.
"The cowpath has all the solidity of mother earth, and none of the
distracting noises we get from the pavements that obtain to-day. It is
porous and absorbs the moisture. The Belgian pavement is leaky, and lets
it run into our cellars. We might do far worse than to go back--"

"Excuse me for having an opinion," said the Idiot, "but the man of
enterprise can't afford to indulge in the luxury of the somnolent
cowpath. It is too quiet. It conduces to sleep, which is a luxury
business men cannot afford to indulge in too freely. Man must be up and
doing. The prosperity of a great city is to my mind directly due to its
noise and clatter, which effectually put a stop to napping, and keep men
at all times wide awake."

"This is a Welsh-rabbit idea, I fancy," said the School-master, quietly.
He had overheard the Idiot's confidences, as revea