"Well--yes," said the Idiot, "I guess perhaps you are right, as far as the exhibit is concerned. There's something almost human about a baby, and it's the human element always that takes hold of me. It's the human element in the Horse Show that takes me and most other people as well. Fact is, so many go to see the people and so few to see the horses that I have an idea that some day they'll have it with only one horse--just enough of a nag to enable them to call it a Horse Show--and pay proper attention to the real things that make it a success even now." The Doctor sniffed contemptuously. "What factors in your judgment contribute most to the success of the Horse Show?" he asked. "Duds chiefly," said the Idiot, "and the people who are inside of them. If there were a law passed requiring every woman who goes to the Horse Show to wear a simple gown in order not to scare the horses, ninety per cent. of 'em would stay at home, and all the blue-ribbon steeds in creation couldn't drag them to the Garden--and nobody'd blame them for it, either. Similarly with the men. You don't suppose for an instant, do you, that young Hawkins Van Bluevane would give seven cents for the Horse Show if it didn't give him a chance to appear every afternoon in his Carnegie plaid waistcoat?" "That's a new one on me," said Mr. Brief. "Is there such a thing as a Carnegie plaid?" "It's the most popular that ever came out of Scotland," said the Idiot. "It's called the Carnegie because of the size of the checks. Then there's poor old Jimmie Varickstreet--the last remnant of a first family--hasn't enough money to keep a goat-wagon, and couldn't tell you the difference between a saw-horse and a crupper. He gives up his hall bedroom Horse-Show week and lives in the place day and night, covering up the delinquencies of his afternoon and evening clothes with a long yellow ulster with buttons like butter-saucers distributed all over his person--" "Where did he get it, if he's so beastly poor?" demanded the Lawyer. "He's gone without food and drink and clothes that don't show. He has scrimped and saved, and denied himself for a year to get up a gaudy shell in which for six glorious days to shine resplendent," said the Idiot. "Jimmie lives for those six days, and as you see him flitting from box to box and realize that he is an opulent swell for six days of every year, and a poor, down-trodden exile for the rest of the time, you don't grudge him his little diversion and almost wish you had sufficient will power to deny yourself the luxuries and some of the necessities of life as well to get a coat like that. If I had my way they'd award Jimmie Varickstreet at least an honorable mention as one of the most interesting exhibits in the whole show.