"Why don't you do something?" Proculus inquired.

"Can't get a chance to do any of the things I can think of," said Balbinus. "And can't think of any more."

"What did you think of?" his friend asked.

"I went to Commodus," said Balbinus, "and asked for a province. You know the way Commodus looks at you, like a stupid countryman who has not understood what you said?"

"Yes, I know," said Proculus, and he laughed grimly.

"Well," said Balbinus, "he stared at me in his red-faced goggle-eyed fashion and burst out:

"'Make you a Prefect! You manage a province! You never managed anything in your life."

"'I manage my estate,' I said.

"'Don't put on airs with me,' he growled. 'You talk as if you were your rich cousin. You aren't the Caelius Balbinus. Your estate is no wonder. There are a hundred men in Rome richer than you.'

"I'm not putting on airs,' I told him. 'I know where I stand and what my estate is. Such as it is I manage it.'

"'You do not,' he snapped like a dog. 'It manages itself. You've bailiffs and overseers and inspectors and bookkeepers and managers.