"'Whence cometh sheep
To the rich man's door,
Whence cometh sleep
To the bed that's poor.'
My bed was poor enough during our gardening spasm, but very little sleep came to it."
"I never heard the verse," said Blake, "and I don't see much coherency in it. I know the doors of some rich men, but the sheep don't gather there—at least, not in London. The police keep these ferocious animals away."
"Quite so, Blake, quite so. The point is, however, that I am becoming seriously alarmed about my mental condition. I called myself a fool a few minutes ago, and I'm prepared to prove that statement."
"No necessity," replied Blake glibly.
Stranleigh laughed.
"You're willing to take my word for it?"
"Perfectly."
"But I can furnish evidence that most other people are fools, too."
"Carlyle said that years ago."
"Look here, Blake, although I complain of your lack of knowledge, you mustn't infer that I want too much information. Some of your remarks are
