who have trained for this sort of thing. There will be a salary
for you, of course, but it won't be large. On the other hand, there will
be no personal expense and some experience. Will you go?"

Would he GO? Why--

"Yes, I know. But there is your health to be considered. I can't afford
to have a sick man along. You stay here for the present and put in your
time getting absolutely fit."

"But--but I AM fit."

"Um--yes; well, then, get fitter."

Galusha went to Ecuador. Aunt Clarissa protested, scolded, declared him
insane--and capitulated only when she found that he was going anyhow. He
returned from the expedition higher than ever in favor with his chief.
He was offered a position in the archeological department of the museum.
He accepted first and then told Aunt Clarissa.

That was the real beginning. After that the years rolled placidly along.
He went to Egypt, under his beloved chief, and there found exactly what
he had dreamed. The desert, the pyramids, the sculptures, the ancient
writings, the buried tombs and temples--all those Galusha saw and took,
figuratively speaking, for his own. On his return he settled down to
the study of Egyptology, its writings, its history, its every detail. He
made another trip to the beloved land and distinguished himself and his
museum by his discoveries. His chief died and Galusha was offered the
post left vacant. He accepted. Later--some years later--he was called to
the National Institute at Washington.

When he was thirty-seven his Aunt Clarissa died. She left all her
property to her nephew. But she left it in trust, in trust with Cousin
Gussie. There was a letter to the latter in the envelope with the will.
"He is to have only the income, the income, understand--until he is
forty-five," Aunt Clarissa had written. "Heaven knows, I am afraid
even THAT is too young for a child such as he is in everything except
pyramids."

Cousin Gussie, now the dignified and highly respected senior partner
of Cabot, Bancroft and Cabot, took charge of the Bute--now the
Bangs--property. There was not as much of it as most people had
supposed; since Uncle Joshua passed on certain investments had gone
wrong, but there was income enough to furnish any mortal of ordinary
tastes with the means of gratifying them and still have a substantial
residue left. Galusha understood this, in a vague sort of way, but he
did not care. Outside of his beloved profession he had no tastes and
no desires. Life