Page:Firecrackers a realistic novel.pdf/29

 Do you doubt it?

Will you?

You will.

I think I'm standing on my head at this moment.

From the time the soup appeared, on through the salad, the young man ate ravenously. Until he explained that he had forgotten to eat any lunch, Paul fancied that he must have been hungry for days. And while the youth devoured his food he largely refrained from speech. Paul, whose stomach suffered no pangs, regarded the fellow with esurient eyes, the eyes of an avid curiosity. What was it the chap had, and why wouldn't he tell?

Did you, the stranger queried at last, ever hear of Hippias?

Never, Paul replied, and then eagerly demanded, Tell me about him.

Or Leonardo?

Of course, I've heard of him. You mean The Last Supper guy.

Yes. The young man stared at Paul, and his stare at even a low rate of intensity had almost the devastating force of a gimlet. I think, he went on, that I'd like to tell you about Darwin's profligate bees.

Profligate bees?

Yes. It seems that some colonial or other carried a hive of thrifty English bees over to the West Indies. After the first year they ceased to save up their honey, as they found no occasion to use it.