his pastime.

"I knew you were at home today," said Mr. Reynolds, "and I must see the
machine." He looked at the joyous face of the inventor.

"Why, have you been trying it out?" he cried.

"Yes, and with a fair degree of success. Of course, I realize it may not
always work as it did today. Indeed, the colors are not so strong as I
expect eventually to get them."

"A great piece of work," said Mr. Reynolds, advancing to the middle of
the room and falling into the orator's attitude. "I've thought of it
every day since you told me of it. When I see men in the factory working
at jobs they fair hate, because they and theirs need bread--and breaking
under the bondage--Oh, I say, Procter, I wish you could bring the
machine to perfection soon and get others to believe in it."

Mr. Procter's eyes lost their light. "That's it, to make others
believe!"

Mrs. Procter went to her husband. She put her hand on his arm and looked
up into his face with a gaze of perfect faith. "A big purposeful idea
like yours, that's going to make humanity happier, can't fail but some
day to be brought to the world's attention. Never lose faith, my man."

The shadow of discouragement fell swiftly from him.

"And, now," she continued before he could speak, "all wait here a little
while. The baby's still asleep," she flung over her shoulder as she left