"
Jeems let go his knees. The upper part of his body, thus deprived of
support, fell backward on the mattress. He then clasped his hands
behind his head, and stared at the ceiling.
"Listen, ye multitude," he began; "I'm an artist. So are you. I'm also
a philosopher. You are not. Therefore, I'll deign to instruct you. Ben
de Laney has a father and a mother. The father is pompous, conceited,
and a bore. The mother is pompous, conceited, and a bore. The father
uses language of whose absolutely vapid correctness Addison would have
been proud. So does the mother, unless she forgets, in which case the
old man calls her down hard. They, are rich and of a good social
position. The latter worries them, because they have to keep up its
dignity."
"They succeed," interrupted the other brother fervently, "they succeed.
I dined there once. After that I went around to the waxworks to get
cheered up a bit."
"Quite so, Bertie," replied the philosopher; "but you interrupted me
just before I got to my point. The poor old creatures had been married
many years before Bennie came to cheer _them_ up. Naturally, Bennie has
been the whole thing ever since.
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