“I ought to be in the middle class,” Rob was explaining cheerfully. “When I came last year I expected to go into the junior, but Latin and Greek had me floored, and so, rather than make any unnecessary trouble for the faculty, I dropped into the preparatory. The fact is, Kingsford, I hate those old dead languages. Mathematics and I get on all right, and I don’t mind English, but Greek――well, I’d like to punch Xenophon’s head! Dad has it all cut out that I’m to be a lawyer; he’s one himself, and a good one; but if I can get my way I’m going to Cornell and go in for engineering. They call it structural engineering nowadays. That’s what I want to do, and there’s going to be a heap of trouble in our cozy little home if I don’t get my way. What are you going to be?” “I don’t know――yet. I haven’t thought much about it. My father’s a doctor, but I don’t go in for that. I don’t like sick folks; besides, there doesn’t seem to be much money in doctoring.” “Well, some of them seem to do pretty well,” replied Rob, thoughtfully. “You might be a specialist and charge big fees. When Dad was ill two years ago we had a fellow up from New York in consultation. He and our doctor got together in the library for about ten minutes, and then he ate a big lunch and went home again. And it cost Dad five hundred dollars.” “That sounds all right,” laughed Evan, “but I guess he had to do a lot of hard work before he ever got where he could charge five hundred dollars.” “I suppose so. Do you ever invent?” “Invent? What do you mean?” “Invent things, like――like this.” Rob began a search through his pockets and finally pulled out a piece of brass, queerly shaped and notched, some three inches long. “What is it?” asked Evan, as he took it and examined it curiously. “Just a――a combined tool, as you might say. I call it ‘Langton’s Pocket Friend.’ Here’s a screw-driver; see? And these notches are for breaking glass after it’s cut. Up here there’s a little steel wheel for cutting it, only I haven’t put that in. This is just a model, you know; I filed it out coming down on the train this morning. Then this slot is for sharpening pencils. There’s a nail-file here, you see, only it isn’t filed, of course, because this is just brass. The spur is for cutting wire, or you can open a can with it if the tin isn’t very thick. Then this end here is to open envelops or cut pages with. There are two or three other things I’ve thought of since that I can work in. Of course, if I ever made them, they’d be of steel.” “That’s fine,” said Evan. “Did you think of it yourself?” “Yes. I’m always tinkering with some silly thing. That’s the reason I don’t cut more of a figure with studies, I guess. Dad has patented two or three things for me, but I’ve never been able to sell the patents.” “What are they?” asked Evan, interestedly.