After that he was to be found all day at the Three Melancholy Geniuses, drooping over fours of Irish; and one day his late instructor happened to come in and find him thus, with his melancholy nose over the edge of his glass.
"Haven't got your Head Above Water, I see?" said the Master Genius. "Sorry you haven't Made your Mark."
"I've made a good many," said Downs, pointing to the wet rings on the counter.
"Ah, that sort of mark's no use—unless you make it in Company," said the Genius.
"HAVEN'T GOT YOUR HEAD ABOVE WATER, I SEE?"
One day, as young Bansted Downs sat in his cistern-cupboard biting his nails, a step was heard on the stair, and his late instructor entered.
"I've been all wrong," he said, sitting down on the cistern. "I put you all wrong—I've put all my pupils all wrong. I fell down stairs lately and knocked my head, and when I got up I saw everything—the light broke in upon me!"
"Why, you've cut your hair, and you're dressed quite neatly—I should hardly have known you for a Master Genius at all!" exclaimed young Bansted Downs.
"I am no longer a Genius—I am now the M.W.K.A.A.I.—the Man Who Knows All About It. I now know why genius fails to get the Ear of the Public, and is not appreciated——"