This one was an idiot."
"Well, yes--he could have been. He was suspected."
"Suspected!" said Sally, with irritation. "Would one suspect there was
going to be a dark time if he saw the constellations fall out of the sky?
But that is enough about the idiot, I don't take any interest in idiots;
tell me about the son."
"Very well, then, this one was the eldest, but not the favorite. His
brother, Zylobalsamum--"
"Wait--give me a chance to realize that. It is perfectly stupefying.
Zylo--what did you call it?"
"Zylobalsamum."
"I never heard such a name: It sounds like a disease. Is it a disease?"
"No, I don't think it's a disease. It's either Scriptural or--"
"Well, it's not Scriptural."
"Then it's anatomical. I knew it was one or the other. Yes, I remember,
now, it is anatomical. It's a ganglion--a nerve centre--it is what is
called the zylobalsamum process."
"Well, go on; and if you come to any more of them, omit the names; they
make one feel so uncomfortable."
"Very well, then. As I said, this one was not a favorite in the family,
and so he was neglected in every way, never sent to school, always
allowed to associate with the worst and coarsest characters, and so of
course he has grown up a rude, vulgar, ignorant, dissipated ruffian,
and--"
"He? It's no such thing! You ought to be more generous than to make
such a statement as that about a poor young stranger who--who--why, he is
the very opposite of that! He is considerate, courteous, obliging,
modest, gentle, refined, cultivated-oh, for shame! how can you say such
things about him?"
"I don't blame you, Sally--indeed I haven't a word of blame for you for
being blinded by--your affection--blinded to these minor defects which
are so manifest to others who--"
"Minor defects? Do you call these minor defects? What are murder and
arson, pray?"
"It is a difficult question to answer straight off--and of course
estimates of such things vary with environment.
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