Mr. Hopworthy embraced his knee.
"The plot of that story——" he had begun to say, when Mr. Ferris interrupted.
"There are but seven plots," he explained, "and thirty situations. To one that knows his trade, the outcome of a story should be from the very beginning as obvious as a properly opened game of chess."
"How interesting it must be to write," put in Miss Dunbar appreciatively. Perhaps, in her simple way, she speculated as to where the present situation came among the thirty, and whether the sunbeam she was conscious of upon her hair had any literary value.
"Do you ever see the Stylus?" inquired Mr. Hopworthy, from whose position the sunbeam could be observed to best advantage.
"Sir," said Mr. Ferris, through his Boucher lips, "I may say I am the Stylus."
"Really!" cried the lady, though she could not have been greatly surprised.
In truth, her exclamation veiled the tendency to yawn often induced in the young by objective conversation. If clever people only knew a little more, they would not so often talk of stupid things.
"Ah, then it is to you we owe that spirited little fabliau called 'The Story of Ignatius, the Almoner'?" remarked Mr. Hopworthy, almost indifferently.