“Nonsense! That’s purely incidental—a mere by-product, you might say.”
“Yes, you might—but I wouldn’t advise you to say it to father.”
“All right, I won’t,” he promised, as she led him into the library.
Professor Wentworth rose as they entered and laid aside some scientific book he had been reading.
A man of medium height and build, he had the same twinkling hazel eyes as his daughter, though somewhat dimmed from peering at too many stars for too many years.
“Good evening, Jim,” he said. “I’ve rather been expecting you. What is on your mind?”
“Seeds! Eggs! Baseballs!” was the reply, “I don’t know what. You’ve seen the latest television reports, I suppose?” said Jim, noting that the panel on the receiving cabinet across the room was still lit.
“I’ve seen some of them. Joan has been keeping an eye on the screen mostly, however, while I refreshed my mind on the known chemistry of meteorites. You see, I have a few of those eggs myself, up at the observatory.”
“You have?” cried Jim.
He was certainly on the right track!