For a second Leighton stared; then he burst into laughter. He checked himself suddenly. "Boy," he said, "don't misunderstand. I'm not laughing at the book; I'm laughing at your reading St. Augustine even 'not very often!'" "Why shouldn't you laugh?" asked Lewis, simply. "I laughed sometimes. I remember I always laughed at the heading to the twenty-first book." "Did you?" said Leighton, a look of wonder in his face. "What is it? I don't quite recollect the headings that far." "'Of the eternal punishment of the wicked in hell, and of the various objections urged against it,'" quoted Lewis, smiling. Leighton grinned his appreciation. "There is a flavor about unconscious humor," he said, "that's like the bouquet to a fine wine: only the initiated catch it. I'm afraid you were an educated person even before you read St. Augustine. Did he put up a good case for torment? You see, you've found me out. I've never read him." "His case was weak in spots," said Lewis. "His examples from nature, for instance, proving that bodies may remain unconsumed and alive in fire." "Yes?" said Leighton. "He starts out, 'if, therefore the salamander lives in fire, as naturalists have recorded----' I looked up salamander in the dictionary." Lewis's eyes were laughing, but Leighton's grew suddenly grave. "Poor old chap!" he said. "He didn't know that time rots the sanest argument. 'Oh... that mine adversary had written a book,' cried one who knew." Leighton sat thoughtful for a moment, then he threw up his head. "Well," he said, "we'll give up trying to find out how you got educated. Let's change the subject. Has it occurred to you that at any moment you may be called upon to support yourself?" "It did once," said Lewis, "when I started for Oeiras. Then I met you. You haven't given me time or--or cause to think about it since. I'm--I'm not ungrateful----" "That's enough," broke in Leighton. "Let's stick to the point. It's a lucky thing for the progress of the world that riches often take to the wing. It may happen to any of us at any time. The amount of stupidity that sweating humanity applies to the task of making a living is colossal. In about a million years we'll learn that making a living consists in knowing how to do well any necessary thing. It's harder for a gentleman to make a living than for a farm-hand. But--come with me." He took Lewis to a certain Mecca of mighty appetites in the Strand. Before choosing a table, he made the round of the roasts, shoulders and fowl. They were in great domed, silver salvers, each on a barrow, each kept hot over lighted lamps. Leighton seated himself and ordered. "Now, boy, without staring take a good look at the man that does the carving." One of the barrows was trundled to their table. An attendant lifted the domed cover with a flourish. With astounding rapidity the carver took an even cut from the mighty round of beef, then another. The cover was clapped on again, and the barrow trundled away.