I had to ponder a little, too.
By this time we were near enough to the fountain to hear the water falling, falling, with its never-ending splash; and from this point we could look up and down the different avenues that stretched away from us like the spokes of a gigantic wheel, of which we were the hub.
“And who are those up that avenue? And these here, who are they?”
“Those and these, all of them,” quoth the Axilla, “the misfits and the unfits, they are the people who have nothing to do.”
“I notice that most of them stop as they pass and drink at this fountain.”
“Aye, verily,” answered the Axilla, “for these are the waters of the Fountain of Endurance.”
Before leaving this spot I did not fail to observe one among them who, by his countenance, clothing and deportment, seemed out of place. I noted that apparently he was doing exactly what I was doing, looking about and observing his fellow beings with scrutiny.
“What have you got him in here for?” I asked.
“Don’t be so petulant, little visitor,” answered the Great Axilla, “I have him here for the reason that he belongs here. He is one of the so-called dilettanti. He imagines that he is different from the horde, because he sits by and watches them, calling himself a student of human nature. But mark me, he has the streak in common with the rest of them—he is tired of it all, for he, too, has nothing to do. Follow his gaze now, and you may again query whether that spectacle is germane to this exhibit.”