Coffee and Repartee | Page 5

which the Bibliomaniac readily lent ear, was the
result of his reflections. They twain were to indulge in a discussion of
the great story of Robert Elsmere, which both were confident the Idiot
had not read, and concerning which they felt assured he could not have
an intelligent opinion if he had read it.
So it happened upon this bright Sunday morning that as the boarders sat
them down to partake of the usual "restful breakfast," as the Idiot
termed it, the Bibliomaniac observed:
"I have just finished reading Robert Elsmere."
"Have you, indeed?" returned the School-master, with apparent interest.
"I trust you profited by it?"
"On the contrary," observed the Bibliomaniac. "My views are much
unsettled by it."

"I prefer the breast of the chicken, Mrs. Smithers," observed the Idiot,
sending his plate back to the presiding genius of the table. "The neck of
a chicken is graceful, but not too full of sustenance."
"He fights shy," whispered the Bibliomaniac, gleefully.
"Never mind," returned the School-master, confidently; "we'll land him
yet." Then he added, aloud: "Unsettled by it? I fail to see how any man
with beliefs that are at all the result of mature convictions can be
unsettled by the story of Elsmere. For my part I believe, and I have
always said--"
"I never could understand why the neck of a chicken should be allowed
on a respectable table anyhow," continued the Idiot, ignoring the
controversy in which his neighbors were engaged, "unless for the
purpose of showing that the deceased fowl met with an accidental
rather than a natural death."
"In what way does the neck demonstrate that point?" queried the
Bibliomaniac, forgetting the conspiracy for a moment.
"By its twist or by its length, of course," returned the Idiot. "A chicken
that dies a natural death does not have its neck wrung; nor when the
head is removed by the use of a hatchet, is it likely that it will be cut off
so close behind the ears that those who eat the chicken are confronted
with four inches of neck."
[Illustration: "'I STUCK TO THE PIGS'"]
"Very entertaining indeed," interposed the School-master; "but we are
wandering from the point the Bibliomaniac and I were discussing. Is or
is not the story of Robert Elsmere unsettling to one's beliefs? Perhaps
you can help us to decide that question."
"Perhaps I can," returned the Idiot; "and perhaps not. It did not unsettle
my beliefs."
"But don't you think," observed the Bibliomaniac, "that to certain

minds the book is more or less unsettling?"
"To that I can confidently say no. The certain mind knows no
uncertainty," replied the Idiot, calmly.
"Very pretty indeed," said the School-master, coldly. "But what was
your opinion of Mrs. Ward's handling of the subject? Do you think she
was sufficiently realistic? And if so, and Elsmere weakened under the
stress of circumstances, do you think--or don't you think--the
production of such a book harmful, because--being real--it must of
necessity be unsettling to some minds?"
[Illustration: THE CONSPIRATORS]
"I prefer not to express an opinion on that subject," returned the Idiot,
"because I never read Robert Els--"
"Never read it?" ejaculated the School-master, a look of triumph in his
eyes.
"Why, everybody has read Elsmere that pretends to have read
anything," asserted the Bibliomaniac.
"Of course," put in the landlady, with a scornful laugh.
"Well, I didn't," said the Idiot, nonchalantly. "The same ground was
gone over two years before in Burrows's great story, _Is It, or Is It Not?
and anybody who ever read Clink's books on the Non-Existent as
Opposed to What Is_, knows where Burrows got his points. Burrows's
story was a perfect marvel. I don't know how many editions it went
through in England, and when it was translated into French by Madame
Tournay, it simply set the French wild."
"Great Scott!" whispered the Bibliomaniac, desperately, "I'm afraid
we've been barking up the wrong tree."
"You've read Clink, I suppose?" asked the Idiot, turning to the
School-master.

"Y--yes," returned the School-master, blushing deeply.
The Idiot looked surprised, and tried to conceal a smile by sipping his
coffee from a spoon.
"And Burrows?"
"No," returned the School-master, humbly. "I never read Burrows."
"Well, you ought to. It's a great book, and it's the one _Robert Elsmere_
is taken from--same ideas all through, I'm told--that's why I didn't read
Elsmere. Waste of time, you know. But you noticed yourself, I suppose,
that Clink's ground is the same as that covered in Elsmere?"
"No; I only dipped lightly into Clink," returned the School-master, with
some embarrassment.
"But you couldn't help noticing a similarity of ideas?" insisted the Idiot,
calmly.
The School-master looked beseechingly at the Bibliomaniac, who
would have been glad to fly to his co-conspirator's assistance had he
known how, but never having heard