"Of course not," he said with some annoyance. "There are different kinds of certainty, and this is one of the most certain of all." "More certain than the Inflexible----?" "Oh, damn the Inflexible Method!" he cried. "I'm sick to death of it. You'll do me a kindness by not mentioning it again." "All right; I'm as sick of it as you are. After all, it's not your philosophy I'm thinking of; what I am concerned about is your life. Now, Scattergood," I added--for I was an old friend,--"frankly, between you and me, don't you think you're a fool?" "My dear fellow, I am and always have been a ----" and here he used that objectionable word--"always have been a certain sort of fool. But not about Ethelberta. We understand each other perfectly. She looks after me and takes care of me like a--like a mother. My life is absolutely safe in her hands--I mean, of course, on her back." "Confound those mixed metaphors!" I cried. "That's the seventh I've heard to-day, and they're horribly confusing, even when they are corrected as you corrected yours. Now, what on earth do you mean?" He looked at me curiously. "I mean," he said, "that Ethelberta may be trusted to the uttermost." "Scattergood," I said, "there's a sort of friendship in the Universe which does not scruple on occasion to break every bone in a man's body, and I greatly fear that Ethelberta may be one of its ministers. Now, here's a plain question. Would you be prepared to stand before your class to-morrow morning and bid them trust the Universe for no better reasons than those on which you trust your life to the tender mercies of that bru----of Ethelberta?" "I only wish I could find them reasons half as good." "Half as good as what?" "As those for which I trust my life to Ethelberta." "What are they?" "I can't tell you. If I did tell, the reasons would lose their force. But until they are uttered they are quite conclusive." "What!" I cried; "are the reasons _taboo_? Have you found a magic formula?" "Don't jest," he said. "The matter's far too serious. There is more at stake than the mere safety of my life." "Then you admit your life _is_ at stake," said I; and I thought I had scored a point. "No, I don't. But other things are--things of far greater importance. My life, however, runs no risk from Ethelberta." "Then tell me this. Who runs the bigger risk--you who trust your life to a beast for no reasons you can assign; or we, your disciples, who trust ourselves to the Universe in the name of your philosophy?" "By far the bigger risk," he answered, "is yours." "Then you mean to say that you have better reasons for trusting your beast than we have for trusting your system?" "I do." "You are quite serious?" "I am." "But follow this out," I said. "If we, your disciples, run the bigger risk in trusting ourselves to your system, you, its author, run the same risk yourself." "You're strangely mistaken," he answered.