"As a young man you had dreams of being a practical humanitarian," said Mr. Procter softly, "and undoubtedly with your opportunity you might have been a valuable figure in the world. You were endowed with vision. You saw the wrongs man labors under; as a youth you smarted because of those wrongs. And you saw the super-being man might become given equal chances." "Like Reynolds--" repeated Mr. Massey after a time, on impulse--one immediately regretted. "Like Reynolds, our great rough, fine-hearted Reynolds," said Mr. Procter, "the one whom you've had threatened with arrest because he harangued too freely on the street corner." He paused to finish impressively: "I see now that the man who throws away his spiritual birthright for a mess of pottage hates the one who keeps his in the face of all--poverty--misunderstanding--ridicule." A silence dark as a cavern ensued. Mr. Massey at last got to his feet. He stood a long moment looking at the machine, then he glanced at the inventor, but when someone knocked softly at the door he started, revealing how far away from his immediate surroundings his thoughts had flown. Suzanna entered. "Here's David, daddy," she said. "He wants to talk with you." David entered. "I had some time," he said, "and I wanted to see the machine again." "Glad to see you," said the inventor heartily. "Mr. Massey, this is my friend, David Ridgewood, Graham Woods Bartlett's gardener." "How do you do, Mr. Massey," said David. "I've seen you before, of course. Heard of you often." John Massey did not answer at once, since he was somewhat at a loss. He had not been in the habit of meeting socially his friends' gardeners. At last he blurted forth. "How d' do. I've had a look at Procter's invention." "Ah, yes, I supposed so," said David. Then: "Isn't the thought back of that machine wonderful?" Which ridiculous question quickened again all the Eagle Man's combativeness. He spoke with a fine candor. "The thought may be wonderful, young man. I'll not pass on that. But plainly I can't see where the commercial value of the machine comes in." David and Suzanna fell back from the cloud which gathered on the inventor's face. "The commercial value!" he cried. "Have I spent my life working merely that the capitalist may make more money? I tell you, sir, that I have worked only for the betterment of the race. And to you, John Massey, I am giving the great opportunity." "Well, out with it. Where's the great opportunity?" asked Mr. Massey testily. "To my mind you haven't an article with a wide enough appeal." "Wide enough appeal!" cried the inventor. "My dear sir, it has an appeal world-wide, and you are to make it of such appeal." He paused to continue impressively: "John Massey, I offer you the opportunity of endowing an institution which shall be built to use my machine. To that institution young men of impecunious parents may come to discover their leading talent."