"Okay," said Arch mildly. "Then we see about patents. But--honey, don't you think this deserves a small celebration of sorts?" Arch spent a few days drawing up specifications and methods of manufacture. By giving the subject a little thought, he discovered that production could be fantastically cheap and easy. If you knew just what was needed, you had only to mix together a few chemicals obtainable in any drugstore, bake them in your oven for several hours, and saw the resulting chunk into pieces of suitable size. By adding resistances and inductances, which could be made if necessary from junkyard wire, you could bleed off the charge at any desired rate. * * * * * Culquhoun's oldest son Robert dropped over to find Arch tinkering with his rickety '48 Chevrolet. "Dad says you've got a new kind of battery," he remarked. "Uh.... Yes. I'll make him one if he wants. All we'll need to charge it is a rectifier and a volt-meter. Need a regulator for the discharge, of course." Arch lifted out his old battery and laid it on the grass. "I've got a better idea, sir," said the boy. "I'd like to buy a _big_ piece of the stuff from you." "Whatever for?" asked Arch. "Run my hot rod off it," said Bob from the lofty eminence of sixteen years. "Shouldn't be too hard, should it? Rip out the engine; use the big condenser to turn a D.C. motor--it'd be a lot cheaper than gas, and no plugged fuel lines either." "You know," said Arch, "I never thought of that." He lifted the ridiculously small object which was his new current source and placed it inside the hood. He had had to add two pieces of strap iron to hold it in position. "Why a regular motor?" he mused. "If you have D.C. coming out at a controlled rate, you could use it to turn your main drive shaft by a very simple and cheap arrangement." "Oh, sure," said Robert scornfully. "That's what I meant. Any backyard mechanic could fix that up--if he didn't electrocute himself first. But how about it, Dr. Arch? How much would you want for a piece like that?" "I haven't the time," said the physicist. "Tell you what, though, I'll give you a copy of the specs and you can make your own. There's nothing to it, if your mother will let you have the oven for a day. Cost you maybe five dollars for materials." "Sell it for twenty-five," said Bob dreamily. "Look, Dr. Arch, would you like to go into business with me? I'll pay you whatever royalty seems right." "I'm going to Boston with just that in mind," said Arch, fumbling with the cables. "However, go ahead. Consider yourself a licensee. I want ten percent of the selling price, and I'll trust a Scotch Yankee like you to make me a million." He had no business sense. It would have saved him much grief if he had. * * * * *