Drusilla, bending low, kissed the upturned face with its big seeking eyes. But she did not speak. For why make definite by clumsy words the miracles a little child brings to pass. No, thought Drusilla in her wisdom, Suzanna should go her way beautifully unconscious of her good works. CHAPTER XVIII THE EAGLE MAN VISITS THE ATTIC A few Saturdays after the marriage in the little wayside church, Richard Procter reached home in a state of great excitement. The family was in the dining-room. Mrs. Procter was polishing the drinking glasses. Though it was long past noon, Suzanna had just commenced to clear away the luncheon dishes. Maizie was shaking napkins, while Peter was in a corner pretending to play ball with the baby, very much to the baby's amusement. Mr. Procter told his news triumphantly. "At last," he cried. "Jane, John Massey is absolutely coming to see the machine this afternoon." The color flashed up into Mrs. Procter's face. "Oh, Richard," she cried; "perhaps--" but she did not finish her conjecture. "He won't take The Machine away, will he, father?" Suzanna asked anxiously. "No, not that particular one, little girl. There'll have to be others built. That is just the model." At two o'clock Mr. Procter was in the attic working at the machine. At three, so interested had he grown, that he had really forgotten the expected visit of old John Massey. So it was a real surprise when Mrs. Procter ushered him in. "Well, I'm here at last," said Mr. Massey. He looked over to where the cabinet stood. "Your machine is rather mysterious looking." "Does it seem so? Here, lay your hat and coat on this table, Mr. Massey. Now I'll explain the purpose of the machine." "Yes, that's what I'm most interested in, what it's for; what you expect to do with it." Richard Procter turned an eager face to the capitalist. "I'll start at the beginning," he said. "Have you ever stopped to think what would mean the greatest happiness to humanity?" Mr. Massey coughed and moved uneasily. "Can't say I have. Food and drink sufficient for all, so I've heard your orator across the street announce." Mr. Procter smiled. "That, yes, might bring content, but I'm speaking of spiritual happiness. Well, this is my idea of what would bring about a revolution in the sum total of world content. _Each man at the work he was born to do._ "And having once reached that conclusion, I set about formulating plans for the building of my machine. An instrument so delicate that it could register a man's leading talent." Mr. Massey moved away a little. He stared doubtfully at the inventor before the clearing thought came. Before him stood a madman, a wild visionary.