father. Let's talk about Christmas."

"No. I want to see what you have made. Where is it? I'll go with you."

Newton laughed.

"I'll bring it, if you really want me to. It's easy enough to carry. The
whole thing's only paper!"

He left the workshop and returned before Overholt had finished cutting
the thread of the screw he was making. The man turned as the boy pushed
the door open with his foot, and came in carrying what had evidently
once been the top of a deal table.

On the board he had built an ingenious model of a town, or part of one,
but it was not finished. It was entirely made of bits of cardboard,
chips of wood, the sides of match-boxes, and odds and ends of all sorts,
which he picked up wherever he saw them and brought home in his pocket
for his purpose. He had an immense supply of such stuff stored away,
much more than he could ever use.

Overholt looked at it with admiration, but said nothing. It was the
college town where he had lived so happily and hoped to live again. It
was distinctly recognisable, and many of the buildings were not only
cleverly made, but were coloured very like the originals. He was so much
interested that he forgot to say anything.

"It's a silly thing, anyway," said Newton, disappointed by his silence.
"It's like toys!"