emphatic than relief.

"How much did you pay for this thing?" he demanded.

"I didn't. I borrowed it."

"Oh-- See here. Can't you say you lost it?"

"I suppose so, if you want it as much as all that."

The young artist sat down and began seriously to tear the book to
pieces.

"Well, for the love of Mike!" cried the friend. "Do you hate it like
that?"

"I never read more than three pages of it," said the artist, steadily
tearing, "but a slumming creature, a girl from uptown came into the
'Pirate's Den' yesterday where I was sitting, and, after staring at me
fascinatedly for five minutes, leaned over to me and murmured
breathlessly:

"'Oh, tell me, _aren't you a Truffler_?' I couldn't wring her neck,
and so--"

Another handful of torn pages fluttered from his hand.

Of course, there are always the faddists and theorists, who take
their ideals as hard as mumps or measles. Because the Village is so
kind to new ideas, these flourish there for a time.

Here is a little tale told about a certain talented and charming lady
who had a very complete set of theories and wished to try them out on
Greenwich. One of her pet theories was that The People were naturally
aesthetic; that The People's own untutored instinct would always
unerringly select the best; that it was an insult to the noble
idealism of The People to try to educate them; they were, so to speak,
born with an education, ready-made, automatic, in sound working order
from the beginning. Now, anyone almost may have theories, but if they
are wise souls they won't try to apply them. If they have never been
practically tested they can't be proved fallacious and thus may be
treasured and loved and petted indefinitely, to the comfort of the
individual and the edification of the multitude. But this fair
idealist would not let well enough alone. She wanted to put her
favourite theory to the acid test. So this is what she did.

In the one-time roadhouse on Washington Square was a saloon the name
of which suggested an embryotic impulse toward poetry; or perhaps she
picked that particular "pub" at random. At all events she walked into
the bar, put her foot up on the traditional rail and began to converse
with the barkeep.

[Illustration: WASHINGTON SQUARE SOUTH. The studio quarter.]

She asked him if he had ever seen any of Shakespeare's plays, and he
said no. She asked him if he would like to see one. He said sure--he'd
try anything once. She invited him to go t