Said the Idiot: "You may fill my cup too, Mrs. Smithers."
"The coffee is all gone," returned the landlady, with a snap.
"Then, Mary," said the Idiot, gracefully turning to the maid, "you may give me a glass of ice water. It is quite as warm, after all, as the coffee and not quite so weak."
One other little skit remains at the expense of Mrs. Smithers' coffee. At the breakfast table, where the air, as usual, is charged with repartee, Mr. Whitechoker, the minister, says to his landlady:
"Mrs. Smithers, I'll have a dash of hot water in my coffee, this morning." Then with a glance toward the Idiot, he added, "I think it looks like rain."
"Referring to the coffee, Mr. Whitechoker?" queried the Idiot....
"Ah,—I don't quite follow you," replied the Minister with some annoyance.
"You said something looked like rain, and I asked you if the thing referred to was the coffee, for I was disposed to agree with you," said the Idiot.
"I am sure," put in Mrs. Smithers, "that a gentleman of Mr. Whitechoker's refinement would not make any such insinuation, sir. He is not the man to quarrel with what is set before him."
"I must ask your pardon, Madam," returned the Idiot politely. "I hope I am not the man to quarrel with my food, either. Indeed, I make it a rule to avoid unpleasantness of all sorts, particularly with the weak, under which category I find your coffee."