human
And I had to confess that I'd never read one either. I did begin one, said West--
gpt
I know exactly how you felt about it, said Sharlee,
human
His one reader!
gpt
There are two of us, if you please. I think of getting up a club--Associated Sons and Daughters of Mr. Queed's Faithful Followers; President, Me. I'll make the other member Secretary, for he is experienced in that work. He's at present Secretary of the Tax Reform League in New York. Did Colonel Cowles show you the wonderful letter that came from him, asking the name of the man who was writing the _Post's_ masterly tax articles, et cetera, et cetera?
human
No--really! But tell me, how have you, as President, enjoyed them?
gpt
I haven't understood a single word in any of them. Where on earth did he dig up his fearful vocabulary? Yet it is the plain duty of both of us to read these articles: you as one of his employers, I as the shrewd landlady's agent who keeps a watchful eye upon the earning power of her boarders.
human
He has a wonderful genius for crushing all the interest out of any subject he touches, hasn't he? Yet manifestly the first duty of an editorial is to get itself read. How old do you think he is?
gpt
Oh--anywhere from twenty-five to--forty-seven.
human
He'll be twenty-four this month. I see him sometimes at the office, you know, where he still treats me like an intrusive subscription agent. In some ways, he is undoubtedly the oldest man in the world. In another way he hasn't any age at all. Spiritually he is unborn--he simply doesn't exist at all. I diagnose his complaint as ingrowing egoism of a singularly virulent variety.