"So I had," replied the Idiot, "but circumstances over which I have no control force me to postpone my reformation for another twelve months. If they had been served at half-past eleven I should have stuck to my resolve; as they have been delayed until twelve-one I cannot do less than eat them. I do not believe in wilful waste; and besides, it is quite as much the duty of the host to consume the good things he places before his guests as it is for the guests to partake. I can wait a year, I think, without wholly ruining what little digestion my former devotion to New-Year's calling has left me. Gentlemen, I propose the ladies: May their future be as golden as this rarebit; and for the men, may they always be worthy to be the toast upon which that golden future may rest with the certainty born of confidence." And the guests fell to and ate each a golden buck to the New Year--all save Mollie and Tommy. These two important members of the household went up to their little beds, but just before going to sleep Tommy called through the door to his little sister: "Mollie!" "Yeth!" "Want to play a game with me to-morrow?" "Yeth!" "Well, you get a cake and a pie and some gingersnaps and a lot of apples and some candy and we'll play New-Year's calls." "Splendid!" lisped Mollie. "You'll call on me?" "Yes," said Tommy; "and all you'll have to do will be to force food on me." And they soon passed into the land of dreams. XII SOME DOMESTIC INVENTIONS [Illustration: "'THERE'S NOT MUCH MONEY IN STOCKS'"] "I think I'll give up the business of broking and go into inventing," said the Idiot one Sunday morning, as he and Mrs. Idiot and their friends sat down at breakfast. "There's not much money in stocks, but the successful inventor of a patent clothes-pin makes a fortune." "I'd think twice about that before acting," observed Mr. Brief. "There may not be much money in stocks, but you can work eight hours a day, and get good pay in a broker's office, while the inventor has to wait upon inspiration." "True enough," said the Idiot; "but waiting on inspiration isn't a bad business in itself. You can play golf or read a rattling good novel, or go to a yacht-race while you wait." "But where does the money come in?" asked Mr. Pedagog, his usual caution coming to the fore. "Inspiration brings it with her," said the Idiot, "and by the barrel, too. What's the use of toiling eight hours a day for fifty weeks in a year for three thousand dollars when by waiting on inspiration in a pleasant way you make a million all of a sudden?"