"Do you know what dnax is?" he asked, apparently hoping that I might.
"No, I can't say I do—exactly," I confessed unwillingly.
"Then of course you couldn't understand it—for that's the very beginning of it!—But no matter. Let's change the subject. Is there anything I can do for you in return for your hospitality to a hungry guest?"
"I beg your pardon—I quite forgot," and I rang the bell.
When the servant came, I ordered supper for two. This strange order caused the servant to gape in silent astonishment. I repeated the order, however, and she hurried away without asking any questions. Returning, she placed the supper upon the table, without seeing the frantic retreat of the little man as she approached the table with the heavy tray.
"What an awkward blockhead!" exclaimed the angry little fellow. I made no answer, being puzzled over the proper way to ask my small friend to eat with a knife and fork larger than himself.
"'PERHAPS,' SAID THE LITTLE MAN, 'HAVING LIVED FORTY CENTURIES, I MAY BE OLD ENOUGH TO ADVISE A YOUNG MAN OF TWENTY-THREE.'"
But, as I hesitated, the mysterious beckoning process again took place, and one-half the contents of the tray diminished to a size convenient for his use. He ate almost greedily, like a starving man. I watched him in silent wonder until he seemed to be satisfied.
Then, pushing back his chair, he said gratefully: "A very nice supper! I should like to return your kindness in some way. You little know what a service you have done me in releasing me from that cruel Trancast——"