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96
The Inventions of the Idiot
·
John Kendrick Bangs
81
XI
Concerning
Children
The
Poet
had
been
away
for
a
week,
and
on
his
return
to
his
accustomed
post
at
the
breakfast-table
seemed
but
a
shadow
of
his
former
self.
His
eyes
were
heavy
and
his
long
locks
appeared
straggly
enough
for
a
man
of
far
more
extended
reputation
as
a
singer
of
melodious
verse.
"To
judge
from
your
appearance,
Mr.
Poet,"
said
the
Idiot,
after
welcoming
his
friend,
"you've
had
a
lively
vacation.
You
certainly
do
not
look
as
if
you
had
devoted
much
of
it
to
sleep."
"I
haven't,"
said
the
Poet,
wearily,
"I
haven't
averaged
more
than
two
hours
of
sleep
daily
since
I
went
away."
"I
thought
you
told
me
you
were
going
off
into
the
country
for
a
rest?"
observed
the
Idiot.
"I
did--and
this
is
what
comes
of
it,"
returned
the
Poet.
"I
went
to
visit
my
sister
up
in
Saratoga
County.
She
has
seven
children."
"Aha!"
smiled
the
Idiot.
"That's
it,
is
it--well,
I
can
sympathize
with
you.
I've
had
experience
with
youngsters
myself.
I
love
'em,
but
I
like
to
take
'em
on
the
instalment
plan--very
little
at
a
time.
I
have
a
small
cousin
with
a
capacity
for
play
and
impudence
that
can't
be
equalled.
His
mother
wrote
me
once
and
asked
if
I
thought
Hagenbeck,
the
wild-animal
tamer,
could
be
induced
to
take
him
in
hand."
"That's
the
kind,"
put
in
the
Poet,
his
face
lighting
up
a
little
upon
discovering
that
there
was
some
one
at
least
at
the
board
who
could
sympathize
with
him.
"My
sister's
seven
are
all
of
the
wild-animal
variety.
I'd
rather
fall
in
with
seven
tigers
than
put
in
another
week
with
my
beloved
nephews
and
nieces."
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