as for the railway station, it was easy enough to build a shed and a
platform, but what is a railway station without a train?

Overholt did not answer the boy at once, and when he spoke there was a
queer little quaver in his voice.

"We'll call it our little City of Hope," he said, "and perhaps we can
'go to work to play,' as you call it, so hard that Hope will really come
and live in the City."

"Well," said Newton, "I never thought you'd ever care to see it! Shall I
go up and get my stuff, and the gum and the flour paste, and bring them
down here, father? But the flour paste smells pretty bad--it might give
you a headache."

"Bring it down, my boy. My headaches don't come from such things."

"Don't they? It's true that stuff you use here's about as bad as
anything, till you get used to it. What is it, anyway?"

Overholt gave him the almost unpronounceable name of some recently
discovered substance, and smiled at his expression as he listened.

"If that's its name," said the boy gravely, "it sounds like the way it
smells. I wonder what a skunk's name is in science. But the flour
paste's pretty bad too. You'll see!"

He went off, and his father finished cutting the little screw while he
was gone, and then turned to look at the model again, and became
absorbed in tracing the well-known streets and trying to recall the