"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."
XVI
CONCLUSION
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."
"I'm sure I can't imagine," said the other; "and what's more, I'm content to wait and find out. Of course you are going?"
"I am, indeed," said Mr. Brief. "I'd travel farther than that for the pleasure of an hour with the dear old boy, and particularly now that he has so good a cook. Dined there lately?"
"Yes," said the Genial Old Gentleman.
"Had any of those mulled sardines he gives you Sunday nights?"
"More than was good for me. Ain't they fine?" said the Genial Old Gentleman, smacking his lips ecstatically.
"Immense!" said Mr. Brief. "A cook that can mull sardines like that is worth her weight in gold. Where do you suppose he got her?"
"Why, he married her!" cried the Genial Old Gentleman, promptly. "Mrs.
Idiot cooks those herself, on the chafing-dish. Didn't you know that?"
"No," said Mr. Brief. "I happened in late Sunday night, and we had 'em.
They were so awfully good I didn't do a thing but eat, and forgot to ask who cooked 'em."
"It's the way of the world," sighed the Genial Old Gentleman. "We old bachelors have to get along on what comes to us, but the energetic chap who goes out into the world and marries the right sort of a woman--Jove, what a lucky chap he is!"
"There's some truth in that," agreed Mr. Brief; "but, on the whole, just think what a terrible thing it would be to marry a bad cook, and to have to eat everything she prepared with an outward show of delight just to keep peace in the family."
"That's your cautious lawyer's view of it," said the Genial Old Gentleman.
"Why the deuce don't you get married yourself, then," said Mr. Brief.
"If you feel that way--"
"I don't want to," said the Genial Old Gentleman. "Fact is, Brief, old man, all I should ever marry for would be the comfort of a home, and I can always get that by going up to the Idiot's."
The other invited guests were no less perplexed by the final words of the Idiot's invitation, and with the pleasure of accepting was mingled an agreeable curiosity to know what was meant by "Last Call." The evening came, and all were present. It was a goodly company, and by special favor the children were allowed to sit up and partake; and, what was more, Mary, the housemaid of the old days, assisted in the serving of the dinner.
"Seems like old times," said Mr. Whitechoker, beaming at Mrs. Pedagog and smiling pleasantly at Mary. "I shall almost expect our host to be sarcastic."
"Sarcasm, Mr. Whitechoker," said the Idiot, unfolding his napkin, "is all right in its place, but as I have grown older I haven't found that having given rein to it I was happier afterwards. Sometimes, no doubt, Mrs. Pedagog has thought me rude--"
"Never!" said the ancient landlady.
"Well, there's something worse than having others think you rude," said the Idiot. "That's realizing yourself that you have been so, and I hope Mrs. Pedagog will accept here and now an apology--a blanket apology--which shall cover a multitude of past sins."
"My dear Idiot," said Mrs. Pedagog, "do you know how I have always thought of you?"
"As a son," said Mr. Pedagog. "And I have felt towards you as a father."
"I wonder you didn't give me a thrashing once in a while, then," said the Idiot.
"We have often wished to," observed Mr. Pedagog.
"John!" cried Mrs. Pedagog.
"Well, _I_ have," said Mr. Pedagog. "Mrs. Pedagog has all the amiable weakness of a woman towards her naughty boy. Spank him next time, not this."
Everybody laughed, and the Idiot rose from his place and walked to Mrs.
Pedagog's side and kissed her.
"You're a nice old mommie," he said, "and the naughty boy loves you.
He'll be hanged if he'll kiss his daddy, though!" he added, with a glance at Mr. Pedagog.
"I will," said Mollie; and she did so.
The old Schoolmaster returned the little girl's salute with emphasis.
"Bless you, little one!" he said, huskily. "I love you even as I loved your papa."
"I'm a-goin' to kiss everybody," said Tommy; and he started in with Mary and put his little scheme through to the bitter end. "What are we going to have for dessert?" he added, complacently, as he resumed his seat.
"Idiot," said Mr. Brief, when the third course had been served, "what do you mean by 'Last Call?'"
"We are going to give up housekeeping," said the Idiot.
"No trouble, I hope," said Mr. Whitechoker.
"Lots!" ejaculated the Idiot. "But not very troublesome troubles. The fact is we intend to travel."
"To travel, eh?" said the Genial Old Gentleman. "Where?"