But it is just the thing to send to Jim to get a rise out of him. He could always appreciate a good practical joke. Wonder how he'd feel to know he was only a Tween. * * * * * _Monday--August 13th_ Sitting here at my study desk, I've been staring into space for an hour. I don't know what to think. It was about noon today when Jim Pietre called the office on the phone. "Now, look, Pete," he started out. "What kind of gag are you pulling?" I chortled to myself and pulled the dead pan on him. "What do you mean, boy?" I asked back into the phone. "Gag? What kind of gag? What are you talking about?" "A coin. A coin." He was impatient. "You remember you sent me a coin in the mail?" "Oh, yeah, that," I pretended to remember. "Look, you're an important research analyst on metals--too damned important to keep in touch with your old friends--so I thought I'd make a bid for your attention thataway." "All right, give," he said in a low voice. "Where did you get it?" He was serious. "Come off it, Jim. Are you practicing to be a stuffed shirt? I admit it's a rib. Something Star dropped the other day. A manufacturer's idea of kid advertising, no doubt." "I'm in dead earnest, Peter," he answered. "It's no advertising gadget." "It means something?" In college, Jim could take a practical joke and make six out of it. "I don't know what it means. Where did Star get it?" He was being pretty crisp about it. "Oh, I don't know," I said. I was getting a little fed up; the joke wasn't going according to plan. "Never asked her. You know how kids clutter up the place with their things. No father even tries to keep track of all the junk that can be bought with three box tops and a dime." "This was not bought with three box tops and a dime," he spaced his words evenly. "This was not bought anywhere, for any price. In fact, if you want to be logical about it, this coin doesn't exist at all." I laughed out loud. This was more like the old Jim. "Okay, so you've turned the gag back on me. Let's call it quits. How about coming over to supper some night soon?" "I'm coming over, my friend." He remained grim as he said it. "And I'm coming over tonight. As soon as you will be home. It's no gag I'm pulling. Can you get that through your stubborn head? You say you got it from Star, and of course I believe you. But it's no toy. It's the real thing." Then, as if in profound puzzlement, "Only it isn't." A feeling of dread was settling upon me. Once you cried "Uncle" to Jim, he always let up. "Suppose you tell me what you mean," I answered soberly. "That's more like it, Pete. Here's what we know about the coin so far. It is apparently pre-Egyptian. It's hand-cast. It's made out of one of the lost bronzes. We fix it at around four thousand years old."