“Well, I’ll tell you. There isn’t any doubt but what he’s got a lot in him for new mechanical methods, but he can’t get anywhere with it because he hasn’t got the faintest conception of what people want. And telling him’s no good. You might as well tell a rooster to lay eggs. Of course he might hit on a winner by accident. That happens with these dreamy chaps once in a while, but the big guns like Edison, Marconi, and that lot know what they’re about every minute, an’ what’s more they never forget it. Now you must excuse me. There’s a new man on that third lathe down there I’ve got to keep an eye on. Glad to see you. Welcome to look through the shop if you care for such things. Good day.” And Mr. Gaynor hurried out of his office. * * * * * Mr. Cripps ran a carefully managed campaign to bring about the capture, as you might put it, of Charles Michael Haworth, and he ran it well; for there’s no denying that he was a man of judgment. And at once appreciating the serious limitations on what would attract the young man, he came down without delay to pushing one thing—the advantage of having a shop of his own, with whatever machines and room he required. He played up to this with extreme caution, not speaking of it at all when Haworth called upon him that first evening, and only hinting at such a possibility during their next interview the day after. The third time they met, which was at the garage where Haworth was employed, he expressed curiosity as to whether young Haworth would care for a place where he could experiment and do what he pleased. It appeared that young Haworth would; and soon thereafter Cripps brought in casually that, now he came to think of it, he had rather a good place for a shop where he lived—a large and airy sort of basement. Wouldn’t Haworth like to come along and try it, just to see how it would go? He needn’t stay if he didn’t like it. Just call it a visit or something like that. He, Mr. Cripps, would be delighted to have him there—that is, of course, if he’d care for such a thing. The young fellow sat thinking for quite a time. Finally he looked up, and his eyes rested softly on old Cripps’s face as he asked in his quiet and serious way, “What kind of power could we have?” And old Cripps knew that the game was his. A small trunk held all of Haworth’s personal belongings, but two crates were required for the shipping of his mechanical devices that he couldn’t leave behind. * * * * * Old Cripps was on edge for the few days following their arrival, fearing the boy would be disappointed or lonely, perhaps even homesick; the mansion itself, now that he came to figure how it might affect the young man, seemed hideously vast and hopelessly dismal—the huge high-ceilinged rooms, the empty echoing halls, the whole place gloomy and overcast from the great elms standing close about.