"Ah, that is precisely why I am here. I was sure you would want to know—Cigar?—Well, Vedas are the wisdom songs of India. Mellowed by forty centuries in the parchment. One hundred per cent Hindu. Classy yet conservative; noble yet nobby. You know what caste is among the Brahmins?—well, that's how exclusive these are!"
"Indeed."
"Yes, and I'm offering them for immediate delivery to students."
"But how does this concern me?"
"I was just getting to that. This is a proposition which requires considerable capital for its development. At the present time only seven students have asked for Vedas, yet I have estimated that the supply of Vedas now mellowing out in India is enough for at least 180,000 students. Which means that if we created the demand—why, think of the business we could do! When you come right down to it, a Veda, when presented in the right way, can be as catchy as a Kewpie."
"Hm. How much money would you need to start with?"
"Fifty thousand dollars. Besides my salary, which would be $15,000 outright, plus a bonus of one and one-half cents per Veda per student, there would be the cost of advertising in the college catalogue, the conducting of a circularizing campaign to a selected list of student prospects and the publication of a promotion organ to be entitled 'India Ink.' Then, too, of course, I would have to have a commission on gross tuition receipts and text book sales and an ample expense account for entertaining in the class-room and in my home. Now will you kindly put your name here on the dotted line?"
"Before I guarantee you all this money, tell me one thing. What is the real value of these Vedas?"
"They are the quaint quintessence of conservatism, and will occupy youthful minds menaced by modernism."
"I'll sign."