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history!—American history!—teach it to fool young undergraduates who don't knowwhat kind of a country they've got, nor what they ought to make out of it, now they've gotit. And I'm going in to get a Ph. D. the same way I wear a stiff shirt and collars and cuffs,not because I was brought up to believe in them as necessary to salvation—because Iwasn't, Lord knows!—but because there's a prejudice in favor of them among the peopleI've got to deal with." He drew a long breath and went on, "Besides, Miss Warner and Ihave been engaged about long enough. I want to earn enough to get married on, and Ph.D. means advancement."Professor Endicott assented dryly: "That is undoubtedly just what it means nowadays.But you will 'advance,' as you call it, under any circumstances. You will not remain aprofessor of history. I give you ten years to be president of one of our large Westernuniversities."His accent made the prophecy by no means a compliment, but Harrison shook his handwith undiminished good-will. "Well, Prof, if I am, my first appointment will be to makeyou head of the history department with twice the usual salary, and only one lecture aweek to deliver to a class of four P.G's—post-graduates, you know. I know a scholarwhen I see one, if I don't belong to the tribe myself, and I know how they ought to betreated."If, in his turn, he put into a neutral phrase an ironical significance, it was hidden by the