The Inventions of the Idiot

"Then you want me to go abroad?" said the Idiot. "No," said Mr. Pedagog. "No--not so much that as that we feel if you were to change your mind the change could not fail to be for the better. A mind like yours ought to be changed." "Well, I don't know," said the Idiot. "I suppose it would be a good thing if I broke it up into smaller denominations, but I've had it so long that I have become attached to it; but there is one thing about it, there is plenty of it, so that in case any of you gentlemen find your own insufficient I shall be only too happy to give you a piece of it without charge. Meanwhile, if Mrs. Pedagog will kindly let me have my bill for last week, I'll be obliged." "It won't be ready until to-morrow, Mr. Idiot," said the landlady, in surprise. "I'm sorry," said the Idiot, rising. "My scribbling-paper has run out. I wanted to put in this morning writing a poem on the back of it." "A poem? What about?" said Mr. Pedagog, with an irritating chuckle. "It was to be a triolet on Omniscience," said the Idiot. "And, strange to say, sir, you were to be the hero, if by any possibility I could squeeze you into a French form."