"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.
