"
"Think of an envelope, sir," said Malkiel, with gentle commiseration.
"Well, are you thinking?"
The Prophet grew purple.
"I am--but it is no use. Besides, why on earth should I think of an
envelope? I beg you to explain."
"North, sir, the northern postal district of the metropolis. Fairly
simple that--I think, sir."
"N.!" cried the illuminated Prophet. "I see. I was thinking of en all
the time. I beg your pardon. Please go on. N.--of course!"
Malkiel concealed a smile, just sufficiently to make its existence for
an instant vitally prominent, and continued,--
"By the Mouse we resolved to build a detached residence such as would
influence suitably the minds of the children--should we have any. For
we had resolved, sir, by that time that with me the _Almanac_ should
cease."
Here Malkiel leaned forward upon the deal table and lowered his voice to
an impressive whisper.
"Yes, sir, it had come to that. We all have our ambitions and that was
mine."
"Good Heavens!" said the Prophet. "Malkiel's _Almanac_ cease! But why?
Such a very useful institution!"
"Useful! More than that, sir, sublime! There's nothing like it."
"Then why let it cease?"
"Because the social status of the prophet, sir, is not agreeable to
myself or Madame.
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