"I have been a public official myself," replied Gud sympathetically, "and I know how ill such service is paid."
This pleased the Critic and he turned and looked into Gud's face and saw there the satisfied look of self-sufficient authority which he recognized as akin to his own. Plucking confidentially at Gud's sleeve he said: "As you appreciate that I must live by subtle ways, then perhaps I can interest you in a few choice verbal gems."
Gud realized that purchasing these words was probably illegal in this world. But it wasn't his world, so he said: "I should like to look at them."
The Critic led Gud into the rear room of a perfectly respectable place and opened up his wallet. Here, in a secluded corner, he emptied the contents upon a table.
Gud began fingering over the verbal gems.
"Look at this," the Critic cried, picking up a brilliant one.
"Too scintillating for the quiet setting I have in mind," replied Gud. Then after examining a few more, he asked: "What will you take for the lot?"
"My price for the lot," said the Critic, "is the gift of power to speak myself such words of genius as I have been defaming to please the people, for I am weary of being a mere word picker and moral scavenger."
Gud answered: "I can give a Critic the power to walk down the street and spill words but I can not make a Genius pick them up."
"Sold!" said the Critic, pushing the verbal gems across the table—and immediately he began to babble words. But Gud noted that they were only words of great talent.