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96
The Inventions of the Idiot
·
John Kendrick Bangs
84
"Same
way
with
me,
multiplied
by
seven,"
said
the
Poet,
with
difficulty
repressing
a
yawn.
"I
tried
the
no
business
on
the
morning
of
the
third
day,
and
gave
it
up
as
a
hopeless
case
before
the
clock
struck
twelve."
"I'd
teach
'em,"
said
Mr.
Pedagog.
"You'd
have
to
learn
'em
first,"
retorted
the
Idiot.
"You
can't
do
anything
with
children
unless
you
understand
them.
You've
got
to
remember
several
things
when
you
have
small
boys
to
deal
with.
In
the
first
place,
they
are
a
great
deal
more
alert
than
you
are.
They
are
a
great
deal
more
energetic;
they
know
what
they
want,
and
in
getting
it
they
haven't
any
dignity
to
restrain
them,
wherein
they
have
a
distinct
advantage
over
you.
Worst
of
all,
down
in
your
secret
heart
you
want
to
laugh,
even
when
they
most
affront
you."
"I
don't,"
said
Mr.
Pedagog,
shortly.
"And
why?
Because
you
don't
know
them,
cannot
sympathize
with
them,
and
look
upon
them
as
evils
to
be
tolerated
rather
than
little
minds
to
be
cultivated.
Hard
a
time
as
I
have
had
as
an
Alp,
I'd
feel
as
if
a
great
hole
had
been
punched
in
my
life
if
anything
should
deprive
me
of
my
cousin
Sammie.
He
knows
it
and
I
know
it,
and
that
is
why
we
are
chums,"
said
the
Idiot.
"What
I
like
about
Sammie
is
that
he
believes
in
me,"
he
added,
a
little
wistfully.
"I
wouldn't
mind
doing
that
myself--if
I
could."
"You
might
think
differently
if
you
suffered
from
seven
Sammies
the
way
the
Poet
does,"
said
the
Bibliomaniac.
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