he went on aggrievedly. "I can't make anything with it. Look! It says
in my book 'How to make a model railway signal with parts of a mincing
machine.' Listen! It says, 'Borrow a mincing machine from your
mother----"

"Did you borrow it?" said Mrs. Brown.

"Yes. Well, I've got it, haven't I? I went all the way down to the
kitchen for it."

"Who lent it to you?"

"No one _lent_ it me. I _borrowed_ it. I thought you'd like to see a
model railway signal. I thought you'd be interested. Anyone would
think anyone would be interested in seein' a railway signal made out
of a mincin' machine."

His tone implied that the dullness of people in general was simply
beyond him. "An' you haven't got a right sort of mincin' machine. It's
wrong. Its parts are the wrong shape. I've been hammerin' them, tryin'
to make them right, but they're _made_ wrong."

Mrs. Brown was past expostulating. "Take them all down to the kitchen
to cook," she said. "She's waiting for them."

On the stairs William met Aunt Lucy carrying her volume of sermons.

"It's not quite the same as the spoken word, William, dear," she said.
"It hasn't the _force_. The written word doesn't reach the _heart_ as
the spoken word does, but I don't want you to worry about it."