"Just as the air waves were always ready for wireless telegraphy, but unused till Marconi came along at the beginning of the present century."
The President looked around him at the star-spangled heavens and drew in a deep breath:
"Yes," he said, slowly, "and there are more secrets waiting to be revealed."
"There's a professor of chemistry in one of the American universities who thinks we shall be able to live on air some day," laughed the young man.
The President did not laugh. "Why not?" he asked. "We know well enough we can't live without it. It's quite conceivable that the atmosphere contains undetected sources of nourishment. They may be generated by vaporisation or by electricity and chemical action within the air itself. No one knew anything about ozone a hundred and fifty years ago, and he would be a rash man who said that ozone is the last word in atmospheric discovery."
"It may end in air cakes," suggested Linton, rather flippantly.
"Or begin with air-cakes and end in air-tabloids," said Zenobia. "What a glorious idea! Only think how it would simplify housekeeping. Meat, vegetables, fish, and all the rest, might be superseded, and the butcher's bill would cease to be a terror."
"And dyspepsia would be abolished with the weekly bills."
"Nature, the only universal provider; complete independence of foreign imports. No starvation and no over-feeding. We should no longer go in for a big square meal, but for a small round tabloid."
"Cooks, with all their greasy pots and pans, would not be wanted. You could carry your meals in your waistcoat pocket and eat them when you pleased."