"How long?" asked a neuro-muscular specialist.
"About ten minutes more," said a general practitioner.
"Excuse me," said the specialist, who became violently sick in a bush. Returning he said, "'M not ordinarily weak like this, but—"
"I understand," said a civil engineer. "It's a pretty revolting notion at best." He hefted a pick in his hand, and sighed.
"I don't see why—" began the specialist in loud and irritated tones, only to be cut off by a terrified chorus of "shh!"
"Sorry," he whispered. "I was saying that I don't see why there aren't special bodies of men for this sort of thing. I mean, why pick men like us to do work we haven't studied?"
"Haven't had the opportunity," said a pianist. "And there's good reason why we haven't a body of men as you suggested."
"I can't think of it," whispered the specialist.
"Assume," said the pianist, "that there is a group chosen—by lot, I suppose—to keep in line all eccentrics like the gentlemen on whom we are about to call. Then how do we keep this group in line?"
The general practitioner pondered, and, still pondering, fell into a brook. "Sorry," he gasped, being helped out. "But I have the answer to your question. How to keep them in line, I mean—if they misbehave you stop their salaries. Right?"