“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.
“These are my jewels,” said Pete impressively. “Darling, it’s going to be a shock, but—have you got a quarter?”
“You’ve got nerve, asking me for money,” said Daisy. “And if you lied about inheriting some money—”
Pete smiled tenderly upon her. He produced a quarter of his own.
“Watch, my dear! I’m doing this for you!”
He turned on the demonstrator and explained complacently as the first cluckings came from the base. The glass plate moved, a second quarter appeared, and Pete pyramided the two while he continued to explain. In the fraction of a minute, there were four quarters. Again Pete pyramided. There were eight quarters—sixteen, thirty-two, sixty-four, one hundred twenty-eight—At this point the stack collapsed and Pete shut off the switch.
“You see, my dear? Out of the fourth dimension to you! Uncle invested it, I inherited it, and—shall I change your money for you?”
Daisy did not look at all absent-minded now. Pete gave her a neat little sheaf of bank notes.
“And from now on, darling,” he said cheerfully, “whenever you want money just come in here, start the machine—and there you are! Isn’t that nice?”