"I have always been inventing
things," he said a little huskily. "I
did it when I was a child. I always
seemed to see there might be a way
of doing a thing better--getting
more power. When other boys
were playing games I was sitting in
corners trying to build models out
of wire and string, and old boxes
and tin cans. I often thought I saw
the way to things, but I was always
too poor to get what was needed to
work them out. Twice I heard of
men making great names and for
tunes because they had been able to
finish what I could have finished if I
had had a few pounds. It used to
drive me mad and break my heart."
His hands clenched themselves and
his huskiness grew thicker. "There
was a man," catching his breath,
"who leaped to the top of the ladder
and set the whole world talking and
writing--and I had done the thing
FIRST--I swear I had! It was all
clear in my brain, and I was half
mad with joy over it, but I could
not afford to work it out. He
could, so to the end of time it will
be HIS." He struck his fist upon his
knee.
"Aw!" The deep little drawl
was a groan from Glad.
"I got a place in an office at last.
I worked hard, and they began to
trust me. I--had a new idea. It
was a big one. I needed money to
work it out. I--I remembered
what had happened before. I felt
like a poor fellow running a race for
his life. I KNEW I could pay back
ten times--a hundred times--what
I took.
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