She had never written this to her husband, because she would do anything
rather than discourage him; but she had almost made, up her mind to
write him a letter of good advice at last, begging him to go back to
teaching for the present, and only to work at the invention in his spare
time. Just then, however, she came across a paragraph in a German
newspaper in Munich which said that a great scientific man in Berlin had
completed an air-motor at last, after years of study, and that it worked
tolerably, enough to demonstrate the principle, but could never be of
any practical use because the chemical product on which it ultimately
depended was so enormously expensive.

Now Mrs. Overholt knew one thing certainly about her husband's engine,
namely, that the chemical he meant to use cost next to nothing, so that
if the principle were sound, the Motor would turn out to be the cheapest
in existence; and she was a practical person, like her boy Newton.

Moreover, she loved John Henry with all her heart and soul, and thought
him one of the greatest geniuses in the world, and she simply could not
bear the idea that he should not have a fair chance to finish the
machine and try it.

Lastly, Christmas was coming; the girls she was educating talked of
nothing else, and counted the days, and sat up half the night on the
edges of each other's beds discussing the beautiful presents they were
sure to receive; and a great deal might be written about what they said,
but it has nothing to do with this story, except that their chatter
helped to fill the air with the Christmas spirit, and with thoughts of
giving as well as of receiving. Though they were rather spoiled
children, they were generous too, and they laid all sorts of little