"I am afraid you take life too seriously," said Mantel, on whose face
appeared that inexplicable smile behind which he constantly retired.
"For, after all, life is nothing but a jest--a grim one, to be sure, but
still a jest. The great host who entertains us in the banqueting hall of
the universe must have his fun as well as any one, and we must laugh at
his jokes even when they are at our expense. This is the least that
guests can do."

"What, even when they writhe with pain?"

"Why not? We all have our fun! You used to scare timid little girls with
jack-lanterns, put duck eggs under the old hen, and tie tin cans to
dogs' tails. Where did you learn these tricks, if not from the great
Trickmaster himself? Humor is hereditary! We get it from a divine
original, and the Archetypal Joker must have His fun. It is better to
take His horseplay in good part. We cannot stop Him, and we may as well
laugh at what amuses Him. There is just as much fun in it as a fellow is
able to see!"

"Then there is none, for I cannot see any. But if you get the comfort
you seem to out of this philosophy of yours, I envy you. What do you
call it? There ought to be a name for a metaphysic which seems to
comprehend all the complex phenomena of life in one single, simple,
principle of humor!"

"How would 'will-o'-the-wispism' do? There is a sort of elusive element
in life, you see. Nature has no goal, yet leads us along the pathway by
shows, enchantments and promises. She pays us in checks which she never
cashes. She holds out a glittering prize, persuades us that it is worth
any sacrifice, and when we make it, the bubble bursts, the sword
descends, and you hear a low chuckle."

"You have described her method well enough, but how is it that you get
your fun out of your knowledge?"

"It is the illusion itself! The boy chasing the rainbow is happier than
the man counting his gold!"

"But what of that dreadful day of disenchantment when the illusion no
longer deceives?"

"Ha! ha! Why, just put on your mask and smile. You can 'make believe'
you are happy, can't you?"

"I have got beyond that," David answered savagely. "I am not sitting for
my picture to this great, grim artist friend of yours, who first sticks
a knife into me, and then tells me to look pleasant that he may
photograph me for his gallery of fools! I am tired of shams and
make-believes. Life is a hideous mockery, and I say plainly that I
loathe and abhor it!"

"Tush, tush, w