"And no novelists," persisted the secretary.
"They will spring up thicker than weeds before the waters are half gone—at least, they would if I let one aboard the ark."
"Editors—two?"
"That's right. And two too many, perhaps. I'll take Jinks of the Thunderer, and Bullock of the Owl."
"But both of them have persistently called you an idiot."
"For that reason I want them. No world could get along without some real idiots."
"I am rather surprised at the next entry, if you will permit me to speak of it," said Joseph Smith. "Here you have forty-two places reserved for players."
"That means twenty-eight adults, and probably some youngsters who will be able to take parts," returned Cosmo, rubbing his hands with a satisfied smile. "I have taken as many players as I conscientiously could, not only because of their future value, but because they will do more than anything else to keep up the spirits of everybody in the ark. I shall have a stage set in the largest saloon."
Joseph Smith scowled, but held his peace. Then, glancing again at the paper, he remarked that there was but one philosopher to be provided for.
"It is easy to name him," said Cosmo. "Kant Jacobi Leergeschwätz."