"Of course," said the old Major as he took out a chased gold case and meditatively extracted a cigarette. "So let's have it, Teddikins, hook, line and sinker !"
But Teddie shook her head,
"I telegraphed to father," she inappositely remarked.
"Where is Trummie this summer?" her uncle inquired.
"He's still at the Arizona Camp Observatory," explained Teddie.
"Trummie moves so slowly," complained the old Major. "The poor man can't help it, I suppose, trailing that chain of D. S.'s, and F. R. S.'s and F. R. G. S.'s around after him all the time. But I suppose you felt he was the proper person to talk such things over with?"
Teddie nodded a slightly abstracted assent.
"Yes, I felt that way. But I had a wire from father this morning. He says he'll be through with his spectographic analysis of the Milky Way nebulæ before the end of October and that as soon as he feels sure he can synthesize an isotope of hydro-
