Then he lost his temper; indeed, he raved, and stormed, and nearly smashed the patent receiver in his fury. To a scientific man, let it be admitted, it was nothing short of maddening to be told that the successful working of his instrument, to the manufacture of which he had given eight years of toil and study, depended upon some pre-existent sympathy between the operators of its divided halves. If that were so, what was the use of his wonderful discovery, for who could ensure a sympathetic correspondent? And yet the fact remained that when, in their playmate days, he understood his cousin Mary, and when her quiet, indolent nature had been deeply moved by the shock of the news of her mother’s peril, the aerophone had worked. Whereas now, when she had become a grown-up young lady, he did not understand her any longer—he, whose heart was wrapped up in his experiments, and who by nature feared the adult members of her sex, and shrank from them; when, too, her placid calm was no longer stirred, work it would not. She laughed at his temper; then grew serious, and said: “Don’t get angry, Morris. After all, there are lots of things that you and I can’t understand, and it isn’t odd that you should have tumbled across one of them. If you think of it, nobody understands anything. They know that certain things happen, and how to make them happen; but they don’t know why they happen, or why, as in your case, when they ought to happen, they won’t.” “It is all very well for you to be philosophical,” he answered, turning upon her; “but can’t you see, Mary, that the thing there is my life’s work? It is what I have given all my strength and all my brain to make, and if it fails in the end—why, then I fail too, once and forever. And I have made it talk. It talked perfectly between this place and Seaview, and now you stand there and tell me that it won’t work any more because I don’t understand you. Then what am I to do?” “Try to understand me, if you think it worth while, which I don’t; or go on experimenting,” she answered. “Try to find some substance which is less exquisitely sensitive, something a little grosser, more in key with the material world; or to discover someone whom you do understand. Don’t lose heart; don’t be beaten after all these years.” “No,” he answered, “I don’t unless I die,” and he turned to go. “Morris,” she said, in a softer voice, “I am lazy, I know. Perhaps that is why I adore people who can work. So, although you don’t think anything of me, I will do my honest best to get into sympathy with you again; yes, and to help in any way I can. No; it’s not a joke. I would give a great deal to see the thing a success.” “Why do you say I don’t think anything of you, Mary? Of course, it isn’t true. Besides, you are my cousin, and we have always been good friends since you were a little thing.”