CONSCIENCE _(at last; in an acid voice)_: That is a history of the Peloponnesian War by Thucydides on the table in front of you. I thought I would mention it, in case you had forgotten. SMITH: Great Scott, yes! Here, I say, I must start. CONSCIENCE: Hear! Hear! MEPH. _(insinuatingly)_: One moment. Did you say you _had_ prepared this book during the term? Afraid I'm a little hard of hearing. Eh, what? SMITH: Well--er--no, I have not. Have you ever played billiards with a walking-stick and five balls? MEPH.: Quite so, quite so. I quite understand. Don't you distress yourself, old chap. You obviously can't get through a whole book of Thucydides in under two hours, can you? CONSCIENCE _(severely)_: He might, by attentive application to study, master a considerable portion of the historian's _chef d'oeuvre_ in that time. MEPH.: Yes, and find that not one of the passages he had prepared was set in the paper. CONSCIENCE: At the least, he would, if he were to pursue the course which I have indicated, greatly benefit his mind. MEPH. _gives a short, derisive laugh. Long pause._ MEPH. _(looking towards bookshelf)_: Hullo, you've got a decent lot of books, pommy word you have. _Rodney Stone, Vice Versa, Many Cargoes._ Ripping. Ever read _Many Cargoes?_ CONSCIENCE _(glancing at his watch)_: I am sorry, but I must really go now. I will see you some other day. _Exit sorrowfully._ MEPH.: Well, thank goodness _he's_ gone. Never saw such a fearful old bore in my life. Can't think why you let him hang on to you so. We may as well make a night of it now, eh? No use your trying to work at this time of night. SMITH: Not a bit. MEPH.: Did you say you'd not read _Many Cargoes?_ SMITH: Never. Only got it today. Good? MEPH.: Simply ripping. All short stories. Make you yell. SMITH _(with a last effort)_: But don't you think-- MEPH.: Oh no. Besides, you can easily get up early tomorrow for the Thucydides. SMITH: Of course I can. Never thought of that. Heave us _Many Cargoes._ Thanks. _Begins to read. MEPH. grins fiendishly, and vanishes through floor enveloped in red flame. Sobbing heard from the direction of the ceiling. Scene closes._ Next morning, of course, he will oversleep himself, and his Thucydides paper will be of such a calibre that that eminent historian will writhe in his grave. [14] NOTES Of all forms of lettered effusiveness, that which exploits the original work of others and professes to supply us with right opinions thereanent is the least wanted. _Kenneth Grahame_