Pehrson especially, it appeared, was going to be difficult. The administrative assistant came into the office almost as soon as Baker was seated at his desk. "It's very good to have you back," said Pehrson. "I think we've managed to keep things running while you've been gone, however. We have rejected approximately one hundred applications during the past week." Baker grunted. "And how many have you approved?" "Approval would have had to await your signature, of course." "O.K., how many are awaiting my signature?" "It has been impossible to find a single one which had a high enough Index to warrant your consideration." "I see," said Baker. "So you've taken care of the usual routine without any help from me?" "Yes," said Pehrson. "There's one grant left over from before I was absent. We must get that out of the way as quickly as possible." "I don't recall any that were pending--" said Pehrson in apology. "Clearwater College. Get me the file, will you?" Pehrson didn't know for sure whether the chief was joking or not. He looked completely serious. Pehrson felt sick at the sudden thought that the accident may have so injured the chief's mind that he was actually serious. He sparred. "The Clearwater College file?" "That's what I said. Bring a set of approval forms, too." Pehrson managed to get out with a placid mask on his face, but it broke as soon as he reached the safety of his own office. It wasn't possible that Baker was serious! The check that went out that afternoon convinced him it was so. When Pehrson left the office, Baker got up and sauntered to the window, looking out over the smoke-gray buildings of Washington. The Index, he smiled, remembering it. Five years he and Pehrson had worked on that. It had seemed like quite a monumental achievement when they considered it finished. It had never been really finished, of course. Continuous additions and modifications were being made. But they had been very proud of it. Baker wondered now, however, if they had not been very shortsighted in their application of the Index. He sensed, stirring in the back of his mind, not fully defined, possibilities that had never appeared to him before. His speculations were interrupted by Doris. She spoke on the interphone, still in the sweetly sympathetic tone she had adopted for her greetings that morning. Baker suspected this would last at least a full week. * * * * * "Dr. Wily is on the phone. He would like to know if you'd mind his coming in this afternoon. Shall I make an appointment or would you rather postpone these interviews for a few days? Dr. Wily would understand, of course." "Tell him to come on up whenever he's ready," said Baker. "I'm not doing much today." President George H. Wily, Ph. D., D.Sc., of Great Eastern University. Wily was one of his best customers.