To my surprise he showed the greatest enthusiasm. So much so that I ordered another pair of bran muffins, which I did not really want, so that he might have more time for reading Kenko.
"Who was this fellow?" he asked.
"He was a Jap," I said, "lived a long time ago. He was mighty thick with the Emperor, and after the Emperor died he went to live by himself in the country, and became a priest, and wrote down his thoughts."
"I see," said my friend. "Just put down whatever came into his head, eh?"
"That's it. All his ideas about the queer things a fellow runs into in life, you know, little bits of philosophy."
I was a little afraid of using that word "philosophy," but I couldn't think of anything else to say. It struck my friend very pleasantly.
"That's it," he said, "philosophy. Just as you say, now, he went off by himself and put things down the way they come to him. Philosophy. Sure. Say, that's a good kind of book. I like that kind of thing. I have a lot of books at home, you know. I get home about nine o'clock, and I most always read a bit before I go to bed."
How I yearned to know what books they were, but it seemed rude to question him.
He dipped into Kenko again, and I wondered whether courtesy demanded that I should order another pot of tea.
"Say, would you like to do me a favor?"