“I begin,” said Pete, “to see the true greatness of modern science. With only two tons of brass and steel, and at a cost of only a couple of hundred thousand dollars and a lifetime of effort, my Uncle Robert has left me a machine which will keep me supplied with burnt matches for years to come! Thomas, this machine is a scientific triumph!”
Thomas beamed.
“Splendid, sir! I’m glad you approve. And what shall I do about lunch, sir?”
The machine, having clucked and hummed appropriately, now produced a fourth burnt match and clucked more triumphantly still. It prepared to reach again into the hitherto unreachable past.
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.