Burnham's glance jumped warily to Sam's face, but withdrew reassured, having detected therein nothing but the old man's kindly and simple nature. "At all events," he continued, "I don't remember hearing anything about the matter (what did you call it? A burner, eh?) from Mr. Barnette." "I s'pose Roland forgot," Sam allowed. "He's so busy courtin' our pretty girls, Mr. Burnham----" "Yes, that was it," Roland put in hastily, seeing his chance to mend matters. "I did intend to write you about it, Mr. Burnham, but it kind of slipped my mind. We've had a lot of important business over to the bank recently." "By the way, Roland, did you just come from the bank? Is Mr. Lockwood back yet?" "No; I got off this morning. I don't think he is, Sam. Did you want to see him?" "Well, yes," Sam admitted. "I guess you know about that, Roland." "Mean business, sometimes, asking favours of these bankers, eh, Mr. Graham?" Burnham remarked, much too casually to have deceived anybody but old Sam. Graham nodded, dolefully. "Yes, it is unpleasant," he admitted confidingly. "You see, there's a note of mine come due to-day, and I'm not able to take care of it or pay the interest just now...." He thought it over gravely for a moment, then brightened. "But I guess it'll be all right. Mr. Lockwood's kind, very kind." "I'm afraid you're a little too sure, Sam," Roland contributed tactfully. "When there's money due Lockwood, he wants it, and most times he gets it or its equivalent." "Yes," Sam assented sadly, "I guess he does, mostly." "But," Burnham changed the subject adroitly, "what was this--burner, did you say?--that Mr. Barnette forgot to tell me about?" "Oh, just one of my inventions, sir." "I understand you're quite an inventor?" Sam's smile lightened his face like sunlight striking a snow-bound field. He nodded slowly, thinking of his past enthusiasms, his hopes and discouragements. "I've spent most of my life at it, sir, but somehow nothing has ever turned out well... not so far, I mean. But I mean to hit it yet." "That's the way to talk," Burnham cried heartily; "never give up, I say!... But tell me about some of these inventions, won't you?" "Wel-l"--Sam knitted his fingers and pursed his lips reflectively--"I patented a new type threshing machine, once, but I couldn't get anybody to take hold of it. You see, I haven't any money, Mr. Burnham." "How would you like to talk it over with me, some time? I'm interested in such things--as a sort of side issue." "Will you?" Sam's eagerness was not to be disguised. "Be glad to. Tell me, how did you get your power?" "From gas, sir--though coal will do 'most as well. You see, I've got this burner patented, that makes gas from crude oil--no waste, no odour nor trouble, and little expense. It'd be cheaper than coal, I thought; that's why I invented it. I could get steam up mighty quick with that gas arrangement. I use it for lighting here in the store, now."