"Ab, Ug, or Unguh. He, she, or it was an experimenter. Y'see, Elaine, at one time there were neither engineers nor physicists. Alexander Graham Bell was not--in our present day sense--a physicist nor was Morse, or Edison or Lodge. Nor were they engineers. Somewhere since then the line has been divided. In them days they were basement geniuses. But now," he said bitterly, "there is one set of people who think up cockeyed things and another set that figures out what to do with them." "Y'know," smiled Elaine, "I think that getting together would be the finest thing that ever happened to you and the physicist." Tom backed up three steps. "Look," he snapped, "I've heard a lot. I can stand for a lot. But that's something that I can't even consider." "Both of you offer so much to--" "Yeah," he sneered, "and we're both solid citizens! Hooey." * * * * * Tom stalked over to the chessboard and looked down. "Overconfidence is a dangerous thing," he said with a smile. He moved a bishop halfway across the board. "There," he said with a satisfied air, "that should be obscure enough to fool anybody, even Lasker." "Who's Lasker?" asked the girl. "One of the chess masters."' "Oh." "Now," he said, "I'm going to ask you a favor." "Yes." He grinned. "It might be quite personal." "In which case I'd ask you a favor, too." "What kind?" "That depends on the nature of the original request. What's yours?" "I'd like you to write a few letters for me." "In which case there'll be no counterproposition." For three solid hours, Elaine sat at the typewriter. At the end of that time, Tom smiled, patted her on the top of the head and said: "You've been a good girl, kiddo." "Thanks," she mumbled. "But there are things about your physicist that I do admire. He never makes his women work." "Impractical lad," laughed Tom. "Impractical, but fun." "Bah. You, too, huh?" "Well fun is--" "Impractical." "When you find time to be impractical," said Elaine, rising, "you may invite me over long enough to find out just exactly how practical an impractical batch of fun can be. Practically, I am an impractical asset with indispensable attributes." She arched one eyebrow at him and leered in a ladylike fashion. "You'll find out," she told him. "Dinner?" he suggested. "That I cook? Ah-ahhh." She touched his cheek lightly and then said: "I gotta go. I'm late as it is. Sorry, Tommy. But that's how it stands. Take it easy--and I'll be seein' you." Tom Lionel, Consulting Engineer, saw her away, and then returned to his desk full of work. He sorted papers, did some computations, manipulated some theory, and then sat still, thinking out his plan. His evening was full. He experimented in the laboratory until the wee small hours, and then spent another two hours contemplating, with relish, the results. He finished by writing another letter, taking a last look at the chessboard, and then retired with a final look at the calendar.