The Descent of Man Other Stories | Page 6

crowd would join in the laugh against its augurs. And the laugh should
be something more than the distension of mental muscles; it should be
the trumpet-blast bringing down the walls of ignorance, or at least the

little stone striking the giant between the eyes.

II

The Professor, on presenting his card, had imagined that it would
command prompt access to the publisher's sanctuary; but the young
man who read his name was not moved to immediate action. It was
clear that Professor Linyard of Hillbridge University was not a specific
figure to the purveyors of popular literature. But the publisher was an
old friend; and when the card had finally drifted to his office on the
languid tide of routine he came forth at once to greet his visitor.
The warmth of his welcome convinced the Professor that he had been
right in bringing his manuscript to Ned Harviss. He and Harviss had
been at Hillbridge together, and the future publisher had been one of
the wildest spirits in that band of college outlaws which yearly turns
out so many inoffensive citizens and kind husbands and fathers. The
Professor knew the taming qualities of life. He was aware that many of
his most reckless comrades had been transformed into prudent
capitalists or cowed wage-earners; but he was almost sure that he could
count on Harviss. So rare a sense of irony, so keen a perception of
relative values, could hardly have been blunted even by twenty years'
intercourse with the obvious.
The publisher's appearance was a little disconcerting. He looked as if
he had been fattened on popular fiction; and his fat was full of
optimistic creases. The Professor seemed to see him bowing into his
office a long train of spotless heroines laden with the maiden tribute of
the hundredth thousand volume.
Nevertheless, his welcome was reassuring. He did not disown his early
enormities, and capped his visitor's tentative allusions by such flagrant
references to the past that the Professor produced his manuscript
without a scruple.
"What--you don't mean to say you've been doing something in our
line?"
The Professor smiled. "You publish scientific books sometimes, don't
you?"
The publisher's optimistic creases relaxed a little. "H'm--it all
depends--I'm afraid you're a little too scientific for us. We have a big

sale for scientific breakfast foods, but not for the concentrated essences.
In your case, of course, I should be delighted to stretch a point; but in
your own interest I ought to tell you that perhaps one of the educational
houses would do you better."
The Professor leaned back, still smiling luxuriously.
"Well, look it over--I rather think you'll take it."
"Oh, we'll take it, as I say; but the terms might not--"
"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.
"Well--do you mean to take it?" he asked, with a lingering coquetry.
"Take it? Take it, my dear fellow? It's in press already--you'll excuse
my not waiting to consult you? There will be no difficulty about terms,
I assure you, and we had barely time to catch the autumn market. My
dear Linyard, why didn't you tell me?" His voice sank to a reproachful
solemnity, and he pushed forward his own arm-chair.

The Professor dropped into it with a chuckle. "And miss the joy of
letting you find out?"
"Well--it was a joy." Harviss held out a box of his best cigars. "I don't
know when I've had