THE IVORY TOWER
are heaps of others, bigger heaps probably, that are damned knaves; except that mostly the knave is the biggest fool. But those are not blanks; they're full of the poison—without a blest other idea. Now you're the blank I want, if you follow—and yet you're not the blatant ass."
"I'm not sure I quite follow," Gray laughed, "but I'm very much obliged."
"Have you ever done three cents' worth of business?" Mr. Betterman judicially asked.
It helped our young man to some ease of delay. "Well, I'm afraid I can't claim to have had much business to do. Also you're wrong, sir," he added, "about my not being a blatant ass. Oh please understand that I am a blatant ass. Let there be no mistake about that," Gray touchingly pleaded.
"Yes—but not on the subject of anything but business."
"Well—no doubt on the subject of business more than on any other."
Still the good eyes rested. "Tell me one thing, other than that, for which you haven't at least some intelligence."
"Oh sir, there are no end of things, and it's odd one should have to prove that—though it would take me long. But I allow there's nothing I understand so little and like so little as the mystery of the 'market' and the hustle of any sort."
"You utterly loathe and abhor the hustle! That's what I blissfully want of you," said Mr. Betterman.
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