skill, and the delicious profusion of fresh material which Newton kept
finding in every corner of the workshop, it grew steadily, till it was a
little work of art in its way. There were the ups and downs, the crooked
old roads and lanes and the straight new streets, the little wooden
cottages and the big brick houses, and there was the grassy common with
its trees and its tiny iron railing; and John Henry easily made posts to
carry the trolley wires, which had seemed an impossible dream to the
boy, beyond all realisation; and one day, when the inventor seemed
farther from the tangent-balance than ever, he spent a whole afternoon
in making a dozen little trolley-cars that ran on real wheels, made by
sawing off little sections from a lead pencil, which is the best thing
in the world for that, because the lead comes out and leaves nice round
holes for the axles. When the first car was painted red and yellow and
ran up and down Main Street, guided by the wire above and only needing
one little artificial push to send it either way, it looked so real that
the boy was in ecstasies of delight.

"It's worth while to be a great inventor to be able to make things like
that!" he cried, and Overholt was as much pleased by the praise as an
opera singer is who is called out three times before the curtain after
the first act.

So the little City of Hope grew, and they both felt that Hope herself
was soon coming to dwell therein, if she had not come already.




III