Pete looked reproachfully at the servant he had apparently inherited. He reached in his pocket and drew out his forty cents. Then the machine hummed. Pete jerked his head and stared at it.

“Speaking of science, now,” he said an instant later. “I have a very commercial thought. I blush to contemplate it.” He looked at the monstrous, clucking demonstrator of the fourth dimension. “Clear out of here for ten minutes, Thomas. I’m going to be busy!”

Thomas vanished. Pete turned off the demonstrator. He risked a nickel, placing it firmly on the inch-thick glass plate. The machine went on again. It clucked, hummed, ceased to hum—and there were two nickels. Pete added a dime to the second nickel. At the end of another cycle he ran his hand rather desperately through his hair and added his entire remaining wealth—a quarter. Then, after incredulously watching what happened, he began to pyramid.

Thomas tapped decorously some ten minutes later.

“Beg pardon, sir,” he said hopefully. “About lunch, sir—”

Pete turned off the demonstrator. He gulped.

“Thomas,” he said in careful calm, “I shall let you write the menu for lunch. Take a basketful of this small change and go shopping. And—Thomas, have you any item of currency larger than a quarter? A fifty-cent piece would be about right. I’d like to have something really impressive to show to Daisy when she comes.”

Miss Daisy Manners of the Green Paradise floor show was just the person to accept the fourth-dimensional demonstrator without question and to make full use of the results of modern scientific research. She greeted Pete abstractedly and interestedly asked just how much he’d inherited. And Pete took her to the laboratory. He unveiled the demonstrator.