“How would you control the fire?” Jimmy told him in detail as well as he could how he would supply the air necessary to combustion. Mr. Hope smiled his nasty smile. But with a wave of his hand to dismiss the subject he said: “Grant that. How far from the flames you will produce underground will the furnaces of the factory be?” Jimmy thought a moment. “Why, maybe five hundred or a thousand feet.” “And you propose to transport the heat that distance and then apply it to crucibles for the fusion of glass?” “Yes, sir,” Jimmy answered promptly, although he had only a vague idea what Mr. Hope meant by these technicalities. “What temperature do you suppose you could attain?” “Why, I—I don’t know,” said Jimmy. “Could you get a temperature of say sixteen hundred degrees centigrade?” “I—I—” Jimmy suddenly remembered how he had once boiled eggs over a hole of the burning mines. “What’s the temperature of boiling water?” he asked abruptly. Jimmy was holding his own, not by his ability to argue, but by his astounding ingenuousness. The secretary gasped a little at such a question coming at such a time. “One hundred degrees centigrade,” he managed to reply. One hundred degrees! And Mr. Hope had mentioned casually a temperature sixteen times as great! Jimmy’s heart sank as he realized how impossible it was. He realized, too, how little he knew about the whole proposition, for the secretary had recovered from his surprise and was saying quietly: “You asked me if I thought your idea was any good. I do not.” “But you’ll tell it to Mr. Wentworth?” Jimmy put in quickly. “Yes, I’ll tell it to Mr. Wentworth—and let you know.” Mr. Hope rose to terminate the interview. Jimmy rose also. He realized now fully for the first time that there were a thousand things about the plan that he had never even thought of, much less understood. Mr. Hope would explain the idea to the president, of course, but the way he would tell it made Jimmy feel that Mr. Wentworth wouldn’t think any more of it than his secretary did. Jimmy’s confidence in himself and in the idea was unshaken. But he saw clearly that it would take a long time to get it into shape—for him to understand it, anyway—and he wouldn’t want any one else to go ahead with it unless he did understand it. Jimmy saw also that he would have to know a good deal about the business of whatever company it was he was going to try and make adopt the idea. There was no use going to any other company—the Wentworth was as good as he could find. And all this time, while he was learning all these things, he would have to live. The idea occurred to him then that perhaps he could get a job right here in this very organization. Then he could learn the glass business, and work out his idea at night. And when he was all ready and had all his facts down pat he could tackle Mr. Hope and Mr. Wentworth again. He could never find anybody better than Mr. Wentworth, he was sure of that.