"Jolly good idea! I suggest we take the things in order. Soot first. What about that? There won’t be much in the chimneys. Mother Trenchard’s sure to have had a spring cleaning." "We’ll see. Combustibles are easily got." "Fire-lighters! You can get ’em at old Noakes’s; they make a fine smoke themselves and a jolly good stink. Splendid!" "They might do. I don’t see my way to numbers three and four at present, but I’ll ask Trenchard if he has anything he could let us have cheap; he takes a great interest in my inventions." "Good, old bird. I say, it’s about supper-time; we’d better get back. You didn’t say anything to Mrs. Trenchard about barley water and fried onions and margarine?" "Not yet." "Good man! She’ll be quite satisfied with Aunt Caroline’s love. Come on." At supper, in the farmer’s raftered living-room, while Templeton was considering how to open up the matter of soot with Mrs. Trenchard, Eves suddenly began to sniff. "Is that a smell of soot?" he said. "Does the chimney need sweeping, Mrs. Trenchard?" "There now!" exclaimed the farmer’s wife, a comfortable-looking matron some years younger than her husband. "If I didn’t say to Trenchard I was sure the noses of you London gentlemen would find it out! Us country bodies don’t notice it, bless you." Eves grinned. "’Tis true," the good woman went on; "it do need the brush. But there, what can you do when the milingtary takes the only sweep in the village and makes a soldier of him? I declare I didn’t know him, he was so clean. ’Tis a strange thought: the war makes men clean and chimneys dirty." "And takes away my appetite," said Eves, with his mouth half full of bacon. "Look here, Mrs. Trenchard, you’re going to market to-morrow morning; why shouldn’t we sweep the chimney for you while you’re away? I’m sure Templeton and I could do it, and we’d like to, awfully." "’Tis very kind of you, that I will say; but I couldn’t abear to think of you dirtying yourselves." "Oh, that’s nothing. We get dirty enough on the farm." "But that be clean dirt, not like the bothersome sut. Besides, there’s no chimney brush and no rods." "Quite unnecessary," declared Eves. "Templeton has invented a new way of sweeping chimneys, haven’t you, Bob?" He gave him a kick under the table. "You’ve no idea what a lot of useful notions he’s got in his head." "Well now, did you ever?" said Mrs. Trenchard. "Do ’ee tell me all about it, Mr. Templeton." "To-morrow, Mrs. Trenchard," said Eves, hastily. "You see, it’s quite new, and hasn’t been properly tried yet. An inventor never likes to talk about his inventions until he’s proved they’re a success." "Ay sure; he’s in the right there," said Mr. Trenchard. "I knew you’d agree," said Eves. "Well, then, we’ve settled that we sweep the chimney while you’re out, Mrs. Trenchard, and we’ll tell you all about it when you get back. You’ll be delighted, I assure you."