Professor Jenkins delivered a short lecture on the ionization of gases, a subject so dear to his heart that when he saw how absorbingly they listened he took quite a personal liking to them. He suggested a long series of tests and experiments, which Tommy jotted down in his own private system of Freshman shorthand. At one of them Bill shook his head so despairingly that Professor Jenkins told him, kindly: “If you care to have us make any of the tests for which you may lack the proper appliances, we shall be glad to undertake them for you here.” “We can't tell you how grateful we are,” said Tommy, perceiving that the end of the talk had come. “And please believe me when I tell you that although we are not millionaires now, we hope you will let us consult you professionally from time to time, and I promise you, sir, that I--we--I--'' “Mr. Leigh, I shall be glad to help you. And”--Jenkins paused and laughed--“my fee can wait. Let me hear from you how you make out with the heavier oils. Mr. Byrnes's device is very ingenious. I think you are in a very interesting field.” “Do you happen to know Mr. Hudson G. Kemble, the patent lawyer?” “Very well. Is he interested in your work?” “Not yet,” said Tommy; “but we expect him to be our legal adviser.” “Couldn't go to a better man. By the way, he is an alumnus of your college, class of '91, I think.” “Then he must be what you say he is,” smiled Tommy, happily, while Bill looked on more amazed than suspicious at the friendliness of the conversation. Outside Bill and Tommy talked about it, until Bill said, “That's what happens, all right, all right--ionization!” “Sure thing!” agreed Tommy. “But we must make some more tests--” “Naw! I want to cinch this thing. Let's hike to the lawyer. Come on; we haven't got time to waste.” They looked up Mr. Kemble's address in the telephone-book. Luck was with them. Mr. Kemble was not very busy and could see them at once. They were ushered into his private office. “Mr. Kemble,” said Tommy, so pleasantly that for a moment Bill thought they were old friends, “your name was suggested to us by Mr. Homer Williams, of Dayton. Professor Jenkins, of the Case School, also told us we could not go to a better man. I have no letters of introduction, but can you listen to us two minutes?” Kemble looked into Tommy's eyes steadily, appraisingly. Then he looked at Bill, his glance resting on the package Bill carried under his arm--the precious carburetor. “I'll listen,” said Kemble, not over-encouragingly. Tommy looked at him full in the face--and liked it. Kemble reminded him of Thompson. The lawyer also was plump and round-faced and steady-eyed. He impressed Tommy as being less interested in all phases of human nature than Thompson, slightly colder, more methodical, less imaginative, more concerned with exact figures. The mental machinery was undoubtedly efficient, but worked at a leisurely rate and very safely--a well-lubricated engine.