XIV. A MUSEUM OF SOULS
The man with the good hat and the jumping elbow went by very quickly; yet the man with the bad hat, who thought he was God, overtook him. He ran after him and jumped over a bed of geraniums to catch him.
“I beg your Majesty’s pardon,” he said, with mock humility, “but here is a quarrel which you ought really to judge.”
Then as he led the heavy, silk-hatted man back towards the group, he caught MacIan’s ear in order to whisper: “This poor gentleman is mad; he thinks he is Edward VII.” At this the self-appointed Creator slightly winked. “Of course you won’t trust him much; come to me for everything. But in my position one has to meet so many people. One has to be broadminded.”
The big banker in the black frock-coat and hat was standing quite grave and dignified on
