"Mrs. Carr asked after you,
too. Gushed all over me--in a ladylike way, of course. Then, later
on--" He caught himself as he started to tell about the cigarette, and
Mrs. Carr cutting him, and the interview in her office. No use worrying
Tansy with things that might be considered bad luck. No telling what
further constructions she might put upon them. She glanced through the note and handed it back to him. "It has the authentic Hempnell flavor, don't you think?" she observed. He read:

    DEAR TANSY: Where are you keeping yourself? I haven't seen
    you on campus more than once or twice this year. If you're busy
    with something especially interesting, why not tell us about it? Why not come to tea this Saturday, and tell me all about yourself? HULDA. P.S. You're supposed to bring four dozen cookies to the Parents'
    Day Reception the Saturday after. "Rather confused-sounding," he said, "but I clearly perceive the keen
bludgeon of Mrs. Gunnison. She looked particularly sloppy today." Tansy laughed. "Still, we have been pretty antisocial these last weeks. I believe I'll ask them over for bridge tomorrow night. It's short
notice, but they're usually free Wednesdays. And the Sawtelles." "Do we have to? That henpecker?" Tansy laughed. "I don't know how you would ever manage to get along
without me--" She stopped short. "I'm afraid you'll have to endure
Evelyn. After all, Hervey's the other important man in your department,
and it's expected that you see something of each other socially. To
make two tables, I'll invite the Carrs." "Three fearful females," said Norman. "If they represent the average
run of professors' wives, I was lucky to get you." "I sometimes have similar thoughts about professors' wives' husbands,"
said Tansy. Then as they smoked over the coffee, she said hesitantly, "Norm, I said
I didn't want to talk about last night. But now there's something I
want to tell you." He nodded. "I didn't tell you last night, Norm, but when we burned those ...
things, I was terribly frightened. I felt that we were ripping holes
in walls that it had taken me years to build, and that now there was
nothing to keep out the--"

He said nothing, sat very still. "Oh, it's hard to explain, but ever since I began to ... play with
those things, I've been conscious of pressures from outside. Things
trying to push their way in and get at us. And I've had to press them
back, fight back at them with my--It's like that test of strength men
sometimes make, trying to force each other's hand to the table. But
that wasn't what I was starting to say. "I went to bed feeling miserable and scared. The pressure from outside
kept tightening around me, and I couldn't resist it, because we'd
burned those things. And then suddenly, as I lay in the dark, about an
hour after I went to bed, I got the most abrupt tremendous feeling of
relief. The pressure vanished, as if I'd bobbed up to the surface after
almost drowning. And I knew then ... that I'd gotten over my craziness. That's why I'm so happy." It was hard for Norman not to tell Tansy what he was thinking. Here
was one more coincidence, but it knocked the others into a cocked hat. At about the same time as he had burned the last charm, experiencing a
sensation of fear, Tansy had felt a great relief. That would teach him
to build theories on coincidences! "For I was crazy in a way, dear," she was saying. "There aren't many
people who would have taken it as you did." He said, "You weren't crazy--which is a relative term, anyway,
applicable to anyone. You were just fooled by the cussedness of things." "Cussedness?" "Yes. The way nails sometimes insist on bending when you hammer, as if
they were trying to. Or the way machinery refuses to work. Matter's
funny stuff. In large aggregates, it obeys natural law, but when you
get down to the individual atom or electron, it's largely a matter of
chance or whim--" This conversation was not taking the direction he
wanted it to, and he was thankful when Totem jumped up onto the table,
creating a diversion. It turned out to be the pleasantest evening they had spent together in
ages. But next morning he wished he had not gotten started on that
"cussedness of things" notion. It stuck in his mind. He found himself
puzzling over the merest trifle--in the precise position of that
idiotic cement dragon. Yesterday he remembered thinking that it was
exactly in the middle of the descending roof ridge. But now he saw
that it was obviously two thirds of the way down, quite near the
architrave topping the huge and useless Gothic gateway set between
Estrey and Morton. Even a social scientist ought to have better powers
of observation than that! The jangle of the phone coincided with the nine-o'clock buzzer. "Professor Saylor?" Thompson's voice was apologetic. "I'm sorry to
bother you again, but I just got another inquiry from one of the
trustees. Concerning an informal address you were supposed to have
delivered at about the same time as that ... er ... party. The topic
was 'What's Wrong With College Education?'" "Well, what about it? Are you implying that there's nothing wrong with
college education, or that the topic is taboo?" "Oh, no, no, no. But the trustee seemed to think that you were making
a criticism of Hempnell." "Of small colleges of the same type as Hempnell, yes. Of Hempnell,
specifically, no." "Well, he seemed to fear it might have a detrimental effect on
enrollment for next year. Spoke of several friends of his with children
of college age as having heard your address and being unfavorably
impressed." "Then they were supersensitive." "He also seemed to think you had made a slighting reference to
President Pollard's ... er ... political activities." "I'm sorry but I have to get along to a class now." "Very well," said Thompson. He sounded hurt. *       *       *       *       *

Gracine Pollard was absent from "Primitive Societies," Norman noted
with an inward grin, wondering if it had become too much for her warped
sense of propriety. But even the daughters of college presidents ought
to be told a few home truths now and then. Yesterday's lecture had had a markedly stimulating effect. Several
students had abruptly chosen related subjects for their term papers,
and the fraternity president had decided to capitalize on his
yesterday's discomfiture by writing a humorous article on the primitive
significance of fraternity initiations for the Hempnell _Buffoon_. They had a very brisk session. It put Norman in a good humor which
lasted until after his three-o'clock class that afternoon, when he
happened to meet the Sawtelles, in front of Morton Hall. "I had lunch today with Henrietta ... I mean, Mrs. Pollard," Mrs.
Sawtelle announced with the air of one who has just visited royalty. "Oh say, Norman--" Hervey began, excitedly, thrusting forward his brief
case. "We had a very interesting chat," his wife continued, sweeping on as if
her husband had not spoken. "We talked about you, too, Norman.