plucking persistently at my elbow.

"Are you the great Academician, Perfessor Smith?" he asked, tipping his
pearl-coloured and somewhat soiled bowler.

"Yes," I said condescendingly. "Your description of me precludes further
doubt. What can I do for you, my good man?"

"Are you this here Perfessor Smith of the Department of Anthropology in
the Bronx Park Zooelogical Society?" he persisted.

"What do you desire of me?" I repeated, taking another look at him. He
was exceedingly ordinary.

"Prof, old sport," he said cordially, "I took a slant at the papers
yesterday, an' I seen all about the big time these guys had when you rode
the goat--"

"Rode--_what_?"

"When you was elected. Get me?"

I stared at him. He grinned in a friendly way.

"The privacy of those solemn proceedings should remain sacred. It were
unfit to discuss such matters with the world at large," I said coldly.

"I get you," he rejoined cheerfully.

"What do you desire of me?" I repeated. "Why this unseemly apropos?"

"I was comin' to it. Perfessor, I'll be frank. I need money--"

"You need brains!"

"No," he said good-humouredly, "I've got 'em; plenty of 'em; I'm
overstocked with idees. What I want to do is to sell _you_ a few--"

"Do you know you are impudent!"

"Listen, friend. I seen a piece in the papers as how you was to make the
speech of your life when you ride the goat for these here guys on April
first--"

"I decline to listen--"

"_One_ minute, friend! I want to ask you one thing! _What_ are you going
to talk about?"

I was already moving away but I stopped and stared at him.

"That's the question," he nodded with unimpaired cheerfulness, "_what_
are you going to talk about on April _the_ first? Remember it's the
hot-air party of your life. _Ree_-member that each an' every paper in the
United States will print what you say. Now, how about it, friend? Are you
up in your lines?"

Swallowing my repulsion for him I said: "Why are you concerned as to what
may be the subject of my approaching address?"

"There you are, Prof!" he exclaimed delightedly; "I want to do business
with you. That's me! I'm frank about it. Say, there ought to be a wad of
the joyful in it for us both--"

"What?"

"Sure. We can work it any old way. Take Tyng, Tyng and Company, the
typewriter people. I'd be ashamed to tell you what I can get out o'
them if you'll mention the Tyng-Tyng typewriter in your speech--"

"What you suggest is infamous!" I