"That's all right," said the Idiot, "but the make-up of the average woman is such that what pursuit of fame does for the gladiator, the chase after a bargain does for a woman. I have known women so worn and weary that they couldn't get up for breakfast who had a lion's strength an hour later at a Monday marked-down sale of laundry soap and Yeats's poems. What the goal is to the man the bargain is to the woman, so on the question of incentive to action, Mr. Brief, the sexes are about even. I really think, Doctor, there's a chance here for you and me to make a fortune. Dr. Capsule's Shopnasium, opened every September for the training and development of expert shoppers in all branches of shopnastics, under the medical direction of yourself and my business management would be a winner. Moreover, it would furnish a business opening for all those football players our colleges are turning out, for, as our institution grew and we established branches of it all over the country, we should, of course, have to have managers in every city, and who better to teach all these things than the expert footballist of the hour?" "Oh, well," said the Doctor, "perhaps it isn't such a bad thing, after all; but I don't think I care to go into it. I don't want to be rich." "Very well," said the Idiot. "That being the case, I will modify my suggestion somewhat and send the idea to President Taylor of Vassar and other heads of women's colleges. As things are now they all ought to have a course of shopping for the benefit of the young women who will soon graduate into the larger institution of matrimony. That is the only way I can see for us to build up a woman of the future who will be able to cope with the strenuous life that is involved to-day in the purchase of a cake of soap to send to one's grandmother at Christmas. I know, for I have been through it; and rather than do it again I would let the All-American eleven for 1908 land on me after a running broad jump of sixteen feet in length and four in the air." XVIII FOR A HAPPY CHRISTMAS "I have a request to make of you gentlemen," observed the Idiot, as the last buckwheat-cake of his daily allotment disappeared within. "And I sincerely hope you will all grant it. It won't cost you anything, and will save you a lot of trouble." "I promise beforehand under such conditions," said the Doctor. "The promise that doesn't cost anything and saves a lot of trouble is the kind I like to make." "Same here," said Mr. Brief. "None for me," said the Bibliomaniac. "My confidence in the Idiot's prophecies is about as great as a defeated statesman's popular plurality. My experience with him teaches me that when he signals no trouble ahead then is the time to look out for squalls. Therefore, you can count me out on this promise he wants us to make."