"I am astonished at you!" cried Mr. Pedagog. "You compounded a felony."
"Not exactly," said the Idiot. "I should have done so if I hadn't stopped payment on the check the next day."
"All I lost was the revenue-stamp on the check," said the Idiot.
"And did you ever hear from the man again?"
"Yes," observed the Idiot. "I met him on the train a day or two later--sat next to him in the smoking-car, in fact."
"Yes. We had a very pleasant chat going to town. He said he was moving away from here. He couldn't stand it, he said. He was going to work in some new field where a man could get living pay for his work. Said he'd been robbed by some of our best people; what's the use of working for nothing? he asked. The poor man was kept down, and all that sort of talk."
"Yes," said the Idiot. "I felt rather sorry for him, and when he said good-bye I gave him a cigar and a five-dollar bill, and that was the end of him. I have since received a letter from him in which he said that my kindness was appreciated, and that I could leave my valuables out on the lawn all night hereafter with perfect impunity. 'There isn't a thief in our whole suburban gang would be mean enough to touch it after your kindness to me,' he wrote."
"Very," said the Idiot. "Nevertheless, I have not taken his hint about leaving my silver out-of-doors, and have worked as hard as ever on my patent burglar-alarm."
"Oh, indeed! Have you a new idea in that line?" asked the Schoolmaster.
"Yes," said the Idiot. "It is wholly novel. It is designed to alarm the burglar, and not scare the people in the house. Did you ever hear of anything like that before?"
"Never!" ejaculated Mr. Pedagog, with enthusiasm. "How is it to work?"
"That," said the Idiot, "is what I am trying to find out. When I do I'll let you know, Doctor."
MR. AND MRS. IDIOT REQUEST THE PLEASURE OF YOUR COMPANY AT DINNER ON THURSDAY EVENING, May 31, 1900 AT HALF-AFTER SEVEN O'CLOCK R.S.V.P. LAST CALL
Handsomely engraved, a card bearing the above inscription was sent about the middle of May to all the Idiot's old friends of Mrs. Smithers-Pedagog's select home for gentlemen, and it is needless to say that they all accepted.
"I wonder what the dickens he means by 'Last Call,'" said Mr. Brief to the Genial Old Gentleman who occasionally imbibed. "Sounds like the warning of the dining-car porter on a Pullman train."