Charley stood for a moment, smiling, as he toyed with the leaves of his essay with the forefinger of his right hand.
“True; I had turned the thing upside down, and was reading it backwards. A julep,” he began again, with an authoritative air—
“What connection,” interrupted Alice, “can there be between juleps and military men?”
“Innocence,” ejaculated Charley, raising his eyes to heaven, “thy name is Alice!”
“Go on; I shall not interrupt you again.”
“A julep differs from a thought in this: that while an average man goes to the bottom of the former, of the latter only philosophers can sound the depths.” With that he sat down.
“Is that the end of your Essay on Military Glory?” I asked.
“No. That is the first round. I call for time. I am exhausted by the vastness of the generalization.” And leaning back in his chair, he closed his eyes with a sigh of profound lassitude. “My dear,” said he, presently, in a feeble whisper,—“my dear, don’t you think this lecture would go off better were it illustrated?”
Alice looked puzzled for a moment, then rose with a bright laugh, and, making a pass at Charley (who minds Jack?) which he dodged, tripped briskly out of the room.
“Charley,” said I, “you are a boundless idiot!”