make a completely new machine of the improved type.

Tom had set down on paper some computations regarding the
cross-section of one of the cylinders, and was working out the
amount of stress to which he could subject a shoulder strut, when
a shadow was cast across the drawing board he had propped up in
his lap.

In an instant Tom pulled a blank sheet over his mass of figures
and looked up, a sudden fear coming over him that another spy was
at hand. But a hearty voice reassured him.

"Bless my rice pudding!" cried Mr. Damon, "you shut yourself up
here, Tom, like a hermit in the mountains. Why don't you come out
and enjoy life?"

"Hello! Glad to see you!" cried Tom, joyfully. "You're just in
time!"

"Time for what--dinner?" asked the eccentric man, with a
chuckle. "If so, my reference to rice pudding was very proper."

"Why, yes, I imagine there must be a dinner in prospect
somewhere, Mr. Damon," said Tom with a smile. "We'll have to see
Mrs. Baggert about that. But what I meant was that you're just in
time to have a ride with me, if you want to go."

"Go where?"

"Oh, up in cloudland. I have just finished my first sample of a