"No matter about the terms--"

The publisher threw his head back with a laugh. "I had no idea that
science was so profitable; we find our popular novelists are the
hardest hands at a bargain."

"Science is disinterested," the Professor corrected him. "And I have
a fancy to have you publish this thing."

"That's immensely good of you, my dear fellow. Of course your name
goes with a certain public--and I rather like the originality of our
bringing out a work so out of our line. I daresay it may boom us
both." His creases deepened at the thought, and he shone
encouragingly on the Professor's leave-taking.

Within a fortnight, a line from Harviss recalled the Professor to
town. He had been looking forward with immense zest to this second
meeting; Harviss's college roar was in his tympanum, and he pictured
himself following up the protracted chuckle which would follow his
friend's progress through the manuscript. He was proud of the
adroitness with which he had kept his secret from Harviss, had
maintained to the last the pretense of a serious work, in order to
give the keener edge to his reader's enjoyment. Not since
under-graduate days had the Professor tasted such a draught of pure
fun as his anticipations now poured for him.

This time his card brought instant admission. He was bowed into the
office like a successful novelist, and Harviss grasped him with both
hands.