determined to drop a course of supplementary lectures at the
University, and to give himself up for a year to his book. To do
this, additional funds were necessary; but thanks to "The Vital
Thing" they would be forthcoming.

The publisher received him as cordially as usual; but the response
to his demand was not as prompt as his previous experience had
entitled him to expect.

"Of course we'll be glad to do what we can for you, Linyard; but the
fact is, we've decided to give up the idea of the new edition for
the present."

"You've given up the new edition?"

"Why, yes--we've done pretty well by 'The Vital Thing,' and we're
inclined to think it's _your_ turn to do something for it now."

The Professor looked at him blankly. "What can I do for it?" he
asked--"what _more_" his accent added.

"Why, put a little new life in it by writing something else. The
secret of perpetual motion hasn't yet been discovered, you know, and
it's one of the laws of literature that books which start with a
rush are apt to slow down sooner than the crawlers. We've kept 'The
Vital Thing' going for eighteen months--but, hang it, it ain't so
vital any more. We simply couldn't see our way to a new edition. Oh,
I don't say it's dead yet--but it's moribund, and you're the only
man who can resuscitate it."