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96
The Inventions of the Idiot
·
John Kendrick Bangs
13
"I
am
beginning
to
understand
the
causes
of
your
weariness,"
observed
Mr.
Pedagog,
acridly.
"You
have
been
memorizing
syllables.
Really,
I
should
think
you
were
in
danger
of
phonetic
prostration."
"Not
a
bit
of
it,"
said
the
Idiot.
"Those
words
are
stimulating,
not
depressing.
I
begin
to
feel
better
already,
now
that
I
have
spoken
them.
I
am
not
half
so
weary
as
I
was,
but
for
my
weariness
I
had
good
cause.
I
suffered
all
night
from
a
most
frightful
nightmare.
It
utterly
destroyed
my
rest."
"Welsh-rarebit?"
queried
the
Genial
Old
Gentleman
who
occasionally
imbibed,
with
a
tone
of
reproach.
"If
so,
why
was
I
not
with
you?"
"That
question
should
be
its
own
answer,"
replied
the
Idiot.
"A
man
who
will
eat
a
Welsh-rarebit
alone
is
not
only
a
person
of
a
sullen
disposition,
but
of
reckless
mould
as
well.
I
would
no
sooner
think
of
braving
a
Welsh-rarebit
unaccompanied
than
I
would
think
of
trying
to
swim
across
the
British
Channel
without
a
lifesaving
boat
following
in
my
wake."
"I
question
if
so
light
a
body
as
you
could
have
a
wake!"
said
Mr.
Pedagog,
coldly.
"I
am
sorry,
but
I
can't
agree
with
you,
Mr.
Pedagog,"
said
the
Bibliomaniac.
"A
tugboat,
most
insignificant
of
crafts,
roils
up
the
surface
of
the
sea
more
than
an
ocean
steamer
does.
Fuss
goes
with
feathers
more
than
with
large
bodies."
"Well,
they're
neither
of
'em
in
it
with
a
cake
of
soap
for
real,
bona-fide
suds,"
said
the
Idiot,
complacently,
as
he
helped
himself
to
his
thirteenth
buckwheat-cake.
"However,
wakes
have
nothing
to
do
with
the
case.
I
had
a
most
frightful
dream,
and
it
was
not
due
to
Welsh-rarebits,
but
to
my
fatal
weakness,
which,
not
having
my
Thesaurus
at
hand,
I
must
identify
by
the
commonplace
term
of
courtesy.
You
may
not
have
noticed
it,
but
courtesy
is
my
strong
point."
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