been telling that tale to himself under many skies for years!"

"I suppose," laughed the Journalist, "that the only reason he has
never built the tomb is that he has never had the money."

"Oh, be fair!" said the Violinist. "He has not built the tomb because
he is not his father. The old man would have done it in a minute, only
he lacked imagination. You bet he never day-dreamed, and yet what
skill he had, and what adventures! He never saw anything but the facts
of life, yet how magnificently he recorded them."

"It is a pity," sighed the Violinist, "that the son did not seek a
different career."

"What difference does it make after all?" remarked the Doctor. "One
never knows when the next generation will step up or down, and, after
all, what does it matter?"

"It is all very well for you to talk," said the Critic.

"I assure you that the great pageant would have been just as
interesting from any other point of view. It has been a great
spectacle,--this living. I'm glad I've seen it."

"Amen to that," said the Divorcée. "I only hope I am going to see it
again--even though it hurts."