"Yes," said the Idiot. "Gibraltar and I and Truth are the three unchangeable things in this life, and that's why I am so happy. I'm in such good company. Gibraltar and Truth are good enough companions for anybody." Meanwhile Mollie and Tommy, who had been allowed to sit up upon this rare occasion, stirred uneasily. "Ith I a thandwich, popper?" said the little girl, sleepily, raising her head from her father's shoulder and gazing into his eyes. "Yes, indeed, you are," said her father, giving her an affectionate squeeze. "A sugar sandwich, Mollie. You're really good enough to eat." "Well, I'd rather be a pie," put in Tommy; "an apple pie." "Very well, my son," returned the Idiot. "Have your own way. Henceforth be a pie if you prefer--an apple pie. But may I ask why you express this preference?" "Oh, because," said Tommy, "if I'm to be an apple pie somebody's got to fill me chock-full of apple sauce." "The son of his father," observed Mr. Whitechoker. "I think it is a pity," Mrs. Pedagog put in at this point, "that some of the good old customs of the New Year have gone out." "As to which, Mrs. Pedagog?" asked the Idiot. "Well, New-Year's calling particularly," explained the lady. "It is no longer the thing for people to make New-Year's calls, and I must confess I regret it. It used to be a great pleasure to me in the old days to receive the gentlemen--my old friends, and relatives, and boarders." "Why distinguish between your old friends and your boarders, Mrs. Pedagog?" interrupted the Idiot. "They are synonymous terms." "They are now," said the good lady, "but--ah--they weren't always. I used sometimes to think you, for instance, didn't like me as much as you might." "I didn't dare," explained the Idiot. "If I'd liked you as much as I might I'd have told you so, and then Mr. Pedagog would have got jealous and there'd have been a horrid affair." The lady smiled graciously, and Mr. Pedagog threw a small paper pellet at the Idiot. "I'm much obliged to you for holding off, Idiot," he said. "I don't know where I'd have been to-day if you'd got in ahead of me. Mrs. Pedagog has always had a soft spot in her heart for you." "I've got the other spot," said the Idiot, "and a pair of aces are hard to beat in pairs; but I think I voice Mrs. Pedagog's sentiments in the matter, Mr. Pedagog, when I say that she and I would always have been glad to see you every other New-Year's day if I had been the fortunate winner of her hand." "And Mr. Pedagog and I would have been glad to see you and Mrs. Pedagog in the sandwich years," said Mrs. Idiot to her husband; and then, turning to the Schoolmaster, added, "Wouldn't we, Mr. Pedagog?" "No, madame," returned Mr. Pedagog, courteously. "You might have been, but I would not. If I had married you I could never have seen any one else with pleasure. I should have kept my eyes solely for you." "John!" cried Mrs. Pedagog, arching her eyebrows.