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Mr. Scanlon nodded appreciatively.

“Personally, I’m very strong for all those old fellows,” said he. “They had speed, control and change of pace.”

“Their greatest charm is their simplicity,” said Ashton-Kirk, as he refilled his pipe. “They believed things as children believe them. Their days were rare with faith; their nights with wonders. But,” and there was regret in the speaker’s voice, “the world has turned many times since then. There are no more wonders; and surprise, as they knew it, has ceased to exist.”

Mr. Bat Scanlon, one time athlete and gambler, but now a handler of champions, brushed the first short plume of ash from his cigar. He shook his head.

“Wrong!” stated he, confidently. “Altogether wrong. You get behind the scenes too much; you see the insides of things too often. Wonder is as thick as ever it was; and surprise is still on the job. If there’s any falling off, it’s in ourselves. We’ve grown cross-eyed looking at fakes; we haven’t the vision to know a wonder when we see it.”