At this moment two shabby-looking, insignificant men who had evidently come out from one of the buildings, passed us on the sidewalk.
"I wonder who those guys are," said Mr. Sims. "Look like bums, don't they?"
I shook my head. Some instinct told me that they were professors. But I didn't say so.
My friend continued his instructions.
"When the President asks us to lunch," he said, "I'll say that we're lunching with a friend down town, see? Then we'll make a break and get out. If he says he wants to introduce us to the Faculty or anything like that, then you say that we have to get the twelve-thirty to New York, see? I'm not going to say anything about a chair in philosophy to-day. I want to read it up first some night so as to be able to talk about it."
To all of this I agreed.
From a janitor we inquired where to find the President.
"In the Administration Building, eh?" said Mr. Sims. "That's a new one on me. The building on the right, eh? Thank you."
"See the President?" said a young lady in an ante-office. "I'm not sure whether you can see him just now. Have you an appointment?"
Mr. Sims drew out a card. "Give him that" he said. On the card he had scribbled "Graduate of 1887."