He apprehended the ALL.
Against all this Bill had violently protested. “Cut out this foolishness, and get the bats out of your belfry. Come,” he implored, “and clerk for me. This is the Leader in Kankakee, and when you learn the business I’ll make you my Pardner. Now what’s the matter with THAT?”
“Pouf! Piff! PELF!”—and Alonzo had shuddered as he thus expressed in a musical crescendo his repulsion for trade. At the mere mention of the Drug Store, or the Stock, this Prophet’s apprentice might have been seen to curl his mustache with disdain.
He was strangely indifferent to the possible profits of the show-case and the soda fountain.
Once he had asked, with something akin to vitality in his tone, “How can you, Bill, consent to spend the whole of your earthly life in the weighing, measuring and compounding of cold, inert forms of matter?”
“And how can you,” Bill had retorted in immeasurable disgust, “how can you consent to spend your life in heathendom, roosting on top of a post for forty years, till your fingers grow through your fists? And more,” he continued loudly, “I’ll have you remember that these same cold, inert forms of matter stand for big, warm and lively DOLLARS. D’ye hear me, Mr. Dyanzy Chooanzy? While you’re munchin’ raw fodder and meditatin’ in mouldy caves on the manifold mysteries of mankind, I’ll be livin’ up to the Queen’s taste in Kankakee—swell front—mansard roof—stunning wife—bank stock—and—who knows—but the legislature or Congress or even”—and Bill paused modestly before nominating himself to the Presidency.
Alonzo vouchsafed no reply.
He only gazed at his companion with the wide, meaningless smile of one who Knows—he—Knows.
Then, shaking his head with vast, prophetic solemnity, he waved adieu and passed out—in impenetrable silence.
This devotee had learned, as do all those who delight in the name “Mystic,” that nothing is more effective than this vague, superior silence, when confronted with the crude practicalities of the “Unillumined.”