"Well, in plain English, then, my motor is provided with two sets of steering-gear, and the clutch couplings are so arranged that I can engage one and disengage the other simply by shifting round on the seat, on the pivot of which a cam is keyed——" "For goodness’ sake, Bob, spare me the rest, if that’s plain English. D’you mean that you can drive your ’bus forward or backward as you please?" "You can put it like that if you like, only, of course, the ’bus is always going forward, because when you shift round on the seat——" "Exactly. Not a word more. Why couldn’t you say that in a sentence instead of meandering through page after page? Why, hang it all, this will make a book before you’ve done with it." "It does seem a little long-winded," Templeton admitted, seriously, "but you’ve no idea how particular the Patent Office people are. You have to be correct in the smallest detail, and draw diagrams showing everything. There’s a lot of work to be done on this draft yet before it’s ready." "Well, let’s go and see how it works in practice. I’d die happy if I thought one of your old inventions was really going to make your fortune." "I’m afraid there isn’t time now. I must hurry off to the shop. But we’ll try it to-night when I get back. It’s a pity old Wilkins insisted on my working out my week’s notice; I’d have liked to devote all my time to it." "Can’t you forfeit your screw or something?" "I offered to, but Wilkins wouldn’t hear of it, and as I hate bothers, and my leaving without notice would certainly put him in a hole, I’ll stick it till Saturday. Are you coming with me to the shop?" "I’ll walk with you so far; then I’ll go on to the town and inquire tenderly after Noakes. We’ll meet at the ’Three Tuns’ for lunch. Mrs. Pouncey will be glad of a day off." Encased in macintoshes, they trudged up the muddy lane. At the corner they met a farmer driving his cart westward. He nodded to Templeton. "You’ve gotten she at last, zur," he said, with a smile. "Yes; all right now, Mr. West." "Ay. I knowed she’d come, gie un time. Gie un time, I said, and she’ll come. Well, marnen to ’ee, zur." "Who’s your she, Bob?" asked Eves as they went on. "Oh, he means the nozzle. They’re fond of the feminine about here." "But how on earth does he know anything about the nozzle? It came by post, you said?" "Yes. I suppose the postman told him. You’re not used to country ways." "But how did the postman know what was in the parcel? They don’t open things, I suppose?" "Of course not. I dare say I mentioned to the postman one day what I was expecting, and they gossip about anything and everything here." "What a place! Look here, my son, you’ll have one of your inventions forestalled one of these days if you don’t keep your mouth shut. Then you’d be sorry."