Up the narrow, creaking stairs we went. Saxe. flooded the place with light and there was the monstrous machinery with unsightly covering, which he reverently removed, and the masterpiece of steel was revealed in all its glory. The polish of the cylinder, and great propeller which failed to work, was dazzling; the delicate lace tracery wrought in the steel wrung from me a cry of admiration. “Shame, shame, Saxe., what a shame it is imperfect!” He shook his head. “It enrages me,” he cried vehemently, “to be able to plan a thing like that, then to be devoid of the trick to perfect it, for it will be by chance, a trick I have so far been unable to hit.” With delight I placed my hands upon the shining metal, then slowly, deliberately began taking the huge instrument apart. Saxe. remonstrated wildly and wished to explain, but I knew his explanations would take hours and his persistence finally so annoyed me I caught him by the shoulders and rushed him from the room quickly, closing and locking the door. He clamored for admittance and bawled instructions. “I am responsible for all damage,” I called through the keyhole. I heard him sigh heavily as I turned away, but became so absorbed with my task that I forgot him, everybody. I took that machine apart and placed it together again, I don’t know how many times. I was unconscious of fatigue, heedless of time, and after hours of tedious work was courageous and alive with energy. But the strain at last must have dazed me, I was confused when putting the infernal instrument together for the final time and made the blunder that ended the difficulty. Wheels, shafts, slides seemed to fit easier into sockets; screws, pins shot into cavities without a rasp. I noticed this, but supposed I was becoming expert, having taken the thing apart so many times, but when the steel monster again towered before me complete I cussed softly, and for the first time doubted my skill. The beauty, contour of the machine was ruined. I would try it again of course, but I was a fool to attempt where Saxe. had failed. Cautiously I set to work to discover the blunder and accidentally touched the propeller, which suddenly rose and shot into its socket and started all portions of the machine into action. I caught my breath, not daring to believe, then commenced experimenting by uncoupling the brakes. The instrument darted forward several yards without the customary whirring noise which warned the operator of a smash-up. I could have shouted for joy—Saxe.’s machine was perfected—I had succeeded.